The Unexpected
by runninonfaith
Summary: Hermione reflects on the way to the way to the Shrieking Shack and what she does when she gets there is completely unexpected.  SS/HG Non-canon compliant.
1. Chapter 1

The Unexpected

A/N: This is a story I started a while back that I originally started for a contest. Life happened and I didn't get to finish it, but it's almost done now. I saw the final movie today and I felt the true need to post what I've written so far. We'll call this my therapy. I really resent the end of Snape's life, so I've tweeked it a bit to suit my fancy. It's not exactly canon-compliant, so don't rake me over the coals because of it (smile). This is JK Rowling's world and I'm merely manipulating her characters as I see fit. All mistakes are of my own doing.

Chapter 1

Unlikely Allies

Walking the dark path to Hogsmeade with her two best friends, Hermione Granger did not feel much like talking to them, for there was only one thing on their minds as they trudged forward to face the Dark Lord. There was no need to speak of it, or say the things one would say to best friends if they knew their lives could end in just a few moments time. The three of them were like family and their feelings for one another were mutual and solid. The quiet trio knew that this could possibly be the last walk they would ever take together alive, but Hermione carried several secrets in her heart that she needed to make known before their journey came to an end.

She was glad the walk to Hogsmeade was a long one because it gave her time to prepare her mind for what was to come over the course of the evening. She also needed a way to find closure on an issue she had tried to bring up to her friends months before. Now that they were on the way to what could possibly be the last night of their lives, she was going to tell them her true feelings one way or another.

Struggling to find the right words to talk to them, her mind drifted to thoughts of their Potions Master, and how she desperately needed to make it clear that he was not the traitorous Death Eater they so fervently wanted to hate. She had time to think it through before speaking, and she decided to try to talk them out of killing him as soon as they saw him, rather than defend him with an argument that had become futile.

Her eyes followed the hem of Harry's black cloak as she walked. It reminded her of Professor Snape's flowing black robes when he whisked through the corridors of the castle. She had always found it to be commanding and intimidating and her mind was suddenly drawn to the Sunday morning she had found out that Severus Snape was a double spy for the Order. Walking, she drifted into the memory.

_She had been asked by Madam Pince to help her file away a mountain of books that belonged in the secret room of the library. The librarian was overwhelmed with filling the order requests set forth by assignments of all the Hogwarts Professors, and she was too busy to tend to the frivolous reading lists of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. They had been checking out books from the secret archives faster than she could tend to them, and she had been thrilled when Hermione accepted her plea for help._

_Hermione had only heard of the secret room in the library, and she had never been allowed entry until that day. She was as excited as one would be on Christmas morning, shaking with apprehension as she turned the Goblin forged key in the lock. When she opened the door, she was overwhelmed with the smell of aging leather bound books and ancient parchment, and she breathed it in, welcoming the familiar comfort the aroma afforded her. The room was much larger than she had originally thought, about half the size of the Great Hall, and there were bookcases neatly aligned like walls, forming a maze stuffed with books that were off limits to students. Between the stacks the perfume of ancient leather was strongest, and she took her time learning the layout, and perusing the titles, ignoring Madam Pince's strict instructions not to do so. _

_Lost in a copy of 'Underused Charms', she felt the air pressure in the room change when the door was suddenly flung open, and she closed the book, quickly returning it to the shelf. Assuming Madam Pince was coming in to check on her, she pushed the buggy full of books toward the front of the room, but she stopped moving when the door violently slammed shut. Knowing the librarian would never do such a thing, Hermione drew her wand, and emerged from between the stacks to find herself face to face with a very startled and angry Severus Snape. The only sounds to be heard were the crisp hisses of scattering parchments leaving his hands and landing on the floor. _

_He glanced up from the mess, snarling at her as he clutched his forearm to hide the painful Dark Mark. "What are you doing in here?" He rasped through clutched teeth._

"_I'm…I'm filing books away…I-I have permission from Madam Pince!" she replied, her voice only managing a startled, broken whisper. She became silent when she saw him lean against the wall, obviously in pain. Taking a step toward him, she gasped, "Are you hurt, sir? Can I…" _

"_Get out of here!" He growled, interrupting her. The veil of his raven black hair covered the excruciating expression on his face._

"_Yes, sir!" she murmured, wanting nothing more than to retreat from the situation before he gave her a needless detention, or took points away from her house._

_As soon as Hermione placed her hand on the door handle, Madam Pince pushed from the outside and cracked it open. Snape hid behind the door, flattened against the stone wall, and he put his finger to his lips, signaling he did not want his presence known._

_Madam Pince yelped when she opened the door and almost ran into Hermione, who was apparently coming out. She gasped laughingly, "Oh! Hermione! You startled me!" Placing her hand to her chest, she chuckled, "I only wanted to check on you." Peeking inside from where she stood, she pushed the door further open, and said, "This is such a depressing room. As soon as you are finished in here I'd like to treat you to a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. I don't think I can stay inside the castle all afternoon. Oh! And please don't rat me out for having you help me. I'd get in a world of trouble if anyone found out I allowed a student in here, but I feel like you know the library better than anyone else because you're always here!"_

_Hermione replied, careful to not let the door swing backward onto her hiding Potions Master, "Thank you. Of course I won't tell a soul because I'd like to be allowed to come back! I love it in here. I'd like to make that trip with you this afternoon very much and it's a beautiful day for a walk. I should be through in about an hour."  
>Pulling the door closed, Madam Pince hesitated, and whispered, "I'd like to stop by Gladrags Wizardwear while we're there. I need new knickers!"<em>

_Hermione giggled, but only because from the corner of her eye, she had seen Professor Snape rolling his eyes, and she replied jokingly, "I hear they now have thongs!"_

"_No!" the librarian gasped, blushing, "I do not think my body would agree with wearing such a thing!" Giggling, she closed the door, and returned to her duties._

_Hermione warded the door, and turned her attention to Professor Snape, who was painfully bending to pick up the spilled parchments. She quickly gathered them, and noticed that he had abandoned the task as soon as she picked up the first item. Leaning against the wall, he watched her through the strings of hair covering his face. _

_Taking the neat stack of parchments from her hands, he snapped, "Thank you, Miss Granger. Now you may go."_

_She pointed her wand at the door to remove the wards, and he murmured, "Wait."_

"_Yes, sir?" She responded, noticing the sudden softness of his tone._

_Failing to hide the fatigue in his strained voice, he whispered, exasperated, "I'm afraid I have found myself in a rather unexpected position and I will unfortunately need your assistance." _

"_How can I help you, Professor?" She offered, her forehead wrinkled with genuine concern._

_He spoke authoritatively, "You may alert the Headmaster that I have been unexpectedly summoned to the Dark Lord and I…" Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath and continued speaking, "We will need to call an immediate meeting of the Order as soon as I return. However…I do not know when that will be. That is all you need to say." _

_Elated to be charged with a mission to help him, she turned on her heels to go immediately to the Headmaster's tower, but he called her back once more, and she stopped in her tracks. Cold shivers crawled up her body when she turned around to find him reluctantly and resentfully pulling on the hammered metal mask of a Death Eater._

_He managed to stand at his fullest height, just before covering his face with the offending mask and he offered her a look of apologetic assurance so she would not scream. In that moment, she saw that his midnight eyes were filled with sadness, regret, dread, and pain. She was confused by his hesitance, yet electrified by the first true display of humanity she had ever seen come from him. She had always respected her Potions Master despite the rumors surrounding his connection with the Dark Lord, but she had never stopped trusting him. Furtively drawn to the side of Professor Snape that he had just allowed her to see, she was certain she would never be able to look at him again without seeking the gentle soul that hid inside his abrasive, impenetrable outer shell. She was briefly confused by his gesture, but he captivated her, and she suddenly felt responsible for him, ready to help him in any way she could. She was determined to prove her loyalty to him and hoped he would continue to find her worthy of his trust._

_Breaking eye contact, he shoved the mask over his head, and commanded, "Tell no one but the Headmaster!" _

"_Of course not!" She sharply replied, insulted. Turning to leave, she stopped and glanced back at him. Ignoring the mask, she inhaled quickly and called to him breathily, "Be careful, Professor!"_

_He nodded and she watched spellbound as he swept into the fireplace and flooed out. As soon as the green flash of magic extinguished, she darted from the room to carry out her mission. On her way to the Headmaster's tower, she quickened her steps into a run when it processed in her mind that Professor Snape was on the side of the light. Her intuitions had been right about him in that he was not an evil man, and that Dumbledore knew all about his dealings with the Dark Lord. She felt safe knowing Professor Snape was helping them and protecting them at the risk of his own life. She ducked behind a suit of armor to avoid being seen by her two best friends who were walking down the corridor, apparently on their way to the Quiddich Pitch._

The snapping of a twig under Hermione's foot broke the silence of their hike and the boys stopped to look in the direction of the sound. The blue glowing tips of their wands showed the face of a very annoyed Hermione Granger.

She spoke authoritatively to them while pushing their wands away, "Ron, please don't get trigger happy tonight with your wand! _Think_ before you _act._ It doesn't automatically mean that it's a Death Eater just because you hear a sound or if something black moves in the night!"

Ron and Harry scowled at her.

"You _still_ believe Snape is innocent, don't you?" Ron snarled.

She crossed her arms and replied, "I believe I've made my feelings quite clear on that matter, Ron, but you two harbor so much hatred that your hearts have turned almost as black as you believe his to be! I can't believe you two ever stopped trusting me!"

Turning to Harry, Ron mused, "She's completely mental."

Ignoring him, Harry put his hand on Hermione's shoulder, and he pleaded with her, "Hermione, Snape killed Dumbledore. That's all there is to it! He's bad. He always was! He has you fooled, just like he did Dumbledore." Exhaling, he could see that her stubborn mind was made up. "Look, Hermione. We could die tonight. I want us to all be in our best frame of mind so we will be focused. Together we are stronger. You're my best friend and we need each other. Whether Snape is a good guy or not, he's still a murderer. If I promise to bring him in alive will that make you feel better?"

Looking on, Ron snorted, "I can't believe what I'm hearing!"

Hermione and Harry scowled at the red head.

"Ok. I promise to bring Snape in…_alive_," Ron said as though he had something sour in his mouth.

"Good. Now we can stop bickering and find Voldemort! Can I count on you two to walk through this with me?" Harry asked, his eyes darting from Hermione to Ron.

"Yes," Ron answered, looking apologetically at Hermione, whose sneer softened into an accepting smile.

"Of course," she answered, squeezing their hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Path Continues

The ground crunched under their feet as they continued their journey in silence, and the moonlight was blocked by towering trees along their path. Hermione felt relieved and happy that she had reached an understanding with the boys about Snape, but she only wished she could get through to them the extent of everything she knew.

"Lumos," she whispered, conjuring a faint blue light from the tip of her wand.

The blue glow allowed just enough light to see the soil passing underneath her feet, and it brought to her mind her trip to Hogsmeade with Madam Pince. She could not stop the grin from crawling across her face when she remembered how silly Madam Pince could be when she was away from school. The snarly old witch had turned out to be her friend. Although she was honored, she mostly thought it was because the pessimistic woman honestly thought Voldemort would wipe them away at any given moment, and she had decided to live life to the fullest. In doing so, Pince had bought several pairs of lacy knickers, a bottle of perfume, and a tube of ruby red lipstick while they visited Gladrags Wizardwear. Hermione almost laughed out loud when she remembered their short walk to the Three Broomsticks.

_Madam Pince clutched the shopping bag full of lacey knickers to her chest, and said enthusiastically, "Argus will appreciate these."_

_The pub was warm and welcoming and there were only a few other people sprinkled about the tables. However, Hermione saw Draco Malfoy sitting at the bar with his disciples Crabbe and Goyle. They chanted and cheered while the blonde wizard shot Firewhiskey. She was sickened because Draco had threatened Madam Rosmerta into serving it to the underage student. Hermione did her best to ignore the situation and enjoy being away from the castle for a bit._

_They took a seat by the window and ordered warm Butterbeer. Madam Pince began a conversation about the need to upgrade the ventilation system in the library, but Hermione could hardly hear her over the loud drunken voice of Draco Malfoy. He began boasting about becoming a Death Eater just like his father and how he would soon be taking the Dark Mark. In a way, she felt sorry for him because she never believed he was truly as evil as the rest of his family. However, his arrogance was worse than his father's and she wanted to bodily throw him out of the pub._

_The door of the pub flung open violently and Severus Snape stalked through the room and took Draco by the collar. Hermione could not hear what the professor said to the younger wizard, but the rumbling of his voice was firm and full of anger when he spoke. Stifling a laugh, she watched the drunken blonde wizard being pulled to the door and she secretly enjoyed seeing him publicly humiliated. She was certain that Draco was going to lose house points and receive a very long lecture on his way back to the castle under Professor Snape's administration. However, her smile slowly left her face when she saw crimson dripping from underneath his black curtain of hair. Pausing at the door, Snape's eyes accidentally locked with hers and for a fraction of a second that felt to her like minutes, he seemed relieved to see her sitting there. She shuddered under his commanding gaze and was confused by the awakening in her body he had unknowingly provoked. She wanted to help her Potions Master and wipe the blood from his brow, but she was frozen in place. Tightening his grip on Draco's collar, he flung open the door and jerked Draco into the darkness, slamming the door behind them. _

_Later that same evening, just around midnight, she had finished her rounds as Head Girl, and she quietly began the descent of the narrow spiral staircase leading to the dungeons. About half way down, she found Draco distraught, crying onto the stone wall of the stairwell. He had not heard her approaching over the sounds of his sobbing, and she could not continue downward because he was blocking her way down the steps._

"_Haven't had time to sleep it off, I see. Snape must have worked you over pretty good!" she said, failing miserably with trying to make it sound more like a joke. Realizing that her voice had not had the tone of her intention, she braced herself for his response while she held on to the hope that he would simply move aside and let her pass. However, he spun around, startled, and menacingly eyed her as he harshly wiped his eyes and his nose on his sleeve. _

_Taking in a deep, hitched breath, he hissed, "What do you want, Mudblood? Are you here to punch me in the face? Or maybe you'd like to hex me!" He rubbed his eyes with his hands as though he was trying to push them through to the back of his head. _

_After wiping away the wet tears from his fingers onto his trousers, he threw up his arms, defeated, and she saw terror in his face._

_Then, with no trace of emotion, he blurted out, "Well, here I am, Granger. Go ahead. Take your best shot because I frankly don't care anymore. I wish you would just do us all a favor and kill me."_

_She studied him for a moment, noticing how the grey color of his eyes was emphasized by the puffy redness of his eyelids. She was relieved that he had not chastised her for breaking curfew, nor had he inquired about her mission in the dungeons. She had never seen Draco Malfoy so upset, and she was puzzled that he had not been more hateful when he spoke to her, thinking it rather odd that he had not tried to hide his emotions from her. _

_Crossing her arms, she said civilly, "I don't wish to go at it with you right now, Malfoy. Could you please step aside so I may pass?" _

_He did not move, but he turned his head toward the bottom of the stairs to where Snape's private quarters were situated, and he looked up at her. A worried expression took over the sadness in his face, and he rasped, "He's not back yet and I don't know…The Dark Lord was…It's all my fault!"_

_Draco's face contorted into a miserable expression of distress and he broke into heartbreaking tears. Covering his eyes with his hands to hide his misery, he flopped down onto the stone step and crumpled against the cold wall, his body shaking as he sobbed. _

_Hermione sat on the step behind him, concerned for her Potions professor, and she reluctantly touched Draco's shoulder with empathy. He cried even louder, becoming inconsolable, and she decided to sit with him until he regained his composure, hoping he would offer more information about Snape. As much as she disliked Malfoy, she still saw him as a human being, and she was extremely curious as to what could have him so distraught. _

_After a few moments of his constant sobbing, she asked, "Are you hurt, Draco? Do you need me to fetch Madam Pomfrey?" _

"_No!" He whimpered, trying to control his emotions. Raising his voice, he slapped the wall, and shouted, "I'm not hurt and I don't need Madam Pomfrey!" Pinching the bridge of his nose as hard as he could to stop the tears from escaping his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled a quick, deep breath. Lowering the volume of his voice, he said, "Why are you being so nice to me, Granger?"_

_Hermione removed her hand from his shoulder and rested her elbows on her knees. "Draco, you are an ass, but you're also a person. Well, sometimes you are, anyway, but I don't ever remember seeing you like this. Even though I really don't like you, it's actually heartbreaking to witness." _

_Noticing the panic residing in his swollen eyes, she appreciated the color of them because they seemed too innocent and scared to belong to such a bloody prat as Draco Malfoy. However, she shuddered when she realized the dark indecision that lay inside them. _

_Swallowing hard, she clenched her eyes together and asked brokenly, "Is your family alright?"_

_He subconsciously did a double take at her and he stared at her for a moment. When he realized what he had done, he began to chuckle at the absurdity of her inquiring about his family, and he snorted, "Good one, Granger." _

_They both laughed nervously and the atmosphere between them began to lighten and a silent truce was made. _

_Leaning back with his elbow on the step next to her, he relaxed for a moment, and replied with a quick grin, "My family is OK for now. Thank you for asking."_

_Looking down, he began to sob again, and he added, "Actually my mother…Professor Snape took…" Abruptly silencing his voice, he stood, and grabbed her hand. "Vow that you will never repeat to anyone what I am about to tell you! Swear it!"_

"_Of course I won't tell anyone! I promise, Draco." She retorted, insulted that he questioned her loyalty._

_His soft voice echoed in the stairwell when he told her in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry, Granger. I need to be sure you wouldn't go tell Weasley and Potter what I'm about to confide in you." His stern, grey eyes pierced hers, and his voice trembled, "Hogwarts seems so far behind me now. I'm scared, Hermione. This is bigger than our rivalry!"  
>She impatiently whispered, "Draco, these are dark times for our world and whether we like it or not we have to help one another fight our way through it. If you have information that can help Professor Snape, then for the love of Merlin, Draco, what is it?" <em>

_Sitting on the step beside her, he opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again, wondering why she was suddenly so concerned about the Potions Master. Rubbing his hands through his already disheveled hair, he gasped, "You have a thing for him, don't you?"_

"_You Prat!" she yelped, unable to stop the gush of blood flushing through her blushing face. Slapping him on the arm, she covered her face with both hands to hide the truth that he had just made her realize._

_Laughing nervously, he said, "I see you don't deny it. Don't worry, Granger. Your secret is safe with me." Abandoning the playful banter, his face became stern and he pulled both of her hands away from her face by her wrists, searching her eyes for answers, pleading for her help, and he spoke almost inaudibly, "I have to kill Dumbledore or the Dark Lord will kill me."_

"_You what?" She asked, looking at him in shock. "That's…You're not going to actually do it, are you?"_

_He hesitated and she felt his hands trembling._

"_Draco, I know you always complain about how much you dislike him, but I don't think you hate him enough to kill him, even if the Dark Lord says he will kill you if you don't!" _

"_I…I may not have to," he replied, sitting on the step next to her. "My godfather…I mean Professor Snape will…"_

"_Professor Snape is your godfather?" she gasped, cutting off his sentence._

_Nodding his head, he continued, "He made the unbreakable vow to my mother that he would protect me and carry out the deed if I should fail. The Dark Lord sent me back to the castle and he was torturing Snape for my being late to the meeting." His insecure gaze awaited her reaction, hoping for some type of miracle solution to come from her brilliant Gryffindor brain. _

_She looked away, allowing her mind a moment to expunge vivid images of Snape being tortured under Voldemort's wrath. _

"_So that's why Snape dragged you out of the pub," she thought aloud._

"_Yes. I didn't know the Dark Lord would pick tonight to want to see me and I went to the pub instead of staying in the Common Room like Professor Snape told me to do. He rewarded me and put Snape under the Cruciatus Curse. He told me of the deed I would have to perform to deem myself worthy of a…Death Eater." He clenched his teeth on the title when he said it, seething with hatred and anger. "It's what Father wants for me. I don't want to do it, but if I don't do as he says…" _

Pulling out of the memory, Draco's watery gray pupils became the glowing blue light emitting from the tip of Hermione's wand, illuminating the ground beneath her feet. She glanced at the outlines of her two best friends walking in front of her. She had never betrayed Draco's secret, but she had led Ron and Harry directly to smoking gun clues that they dismissed over and over again, frustrating her even further. Harry had even overheard a heated conversation between Snape and Draco in which Snape spoke of the Unbreakable Vow, but he was too hell-bent on hating the wizard to believe his own ears.

After Dumbledore's death, Ron only threw coal on the fire of rage burning inside Harry when Hermione continued to defend the former Headmaster's trust in Professor Snape. She maintained the fact that she trusted their Potions Master because he had been the one to keep them safe all along, and that she believed in Dumbledore's fierce trust in him. She also had information that Snape had been treating the ancient wizard's blackening hand with potions and spells to help slow the dark curse, but when she had told Harry and Ron, they became so angry with her that they did not speak to her for an entire day.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Intimate Thoughts

Ron belched, and mumbled, "I wish I had eaten something before we left the castle. My stomach is so empty I keep burping up air."

"Well, keep it to yourself or at least go for the gold and stop stifling them," mused Harry.

Hermione's voice intervened, "No. Absolutely not! You will not have a belching contest while we are walking our last mile to war. Honestly!"

The boys laughed and kept walking. She trailed them, able to see them by the moonlight, and she extinguished her wand. The silence between them became thick as the three former Hogwarts students retreated into their own private bittersweet reflections of times past. Enjoying the calming reverie before walking into the storms of the unknown, Hermione's thoughts remained with the only wizard who had ever made her feel truly safe and guarded.

_After she and Draco had finished their conversation, he descended the stairs to the dungeons, and she went up to hide in the girl's bathroom until she was certain Draco was long gone. She heard the faint gong of a distant clock chiming the one o'clock hour, and she was certain she would lose house points or get detention for the rest of the school year if she was caught, but she simply had to know if her Potions Master had safely returned from his visit with Voldemort._

_Standing in front of the door to his private study, she could smell the fragrance of musty leather binders of aging books, much like in the library, and she wondered what the inside would look like. She raised her hand to knock, holding her head as confidently high as possible, and softly cleared her throat before her knuckles made contact with the wood._

_From behind her, she heard the wounded, silky voice of Severus Snape violating the deafening silence of the corridor, "Out of bed, are we, Miss Granger?" _

_Trembling, she whisked around, ready to explain, but she gasped when he emerged from the shadows. Blood trickled down the left side of his face as well as his nose, and blood gushed through a slice on his shoulder, splattering onto the floor. Holding onto the wall for support, he stopped and rested his head on his arm, exhausted and hurt. _

_Rushing to him she gasped, "Professor! You need Madam Pomfrey!"_

_ "No!" he ordered, his voice echoing down the empty marble hallway. Lowering his volume, he added, "I do not need her. I have potions inside that will heal my bumps and bruises."_

_ He moved a step closer to his door, but he almost fell when he removed his hand from the wall. She put her shoulder under his arm to help steady him, grasping him around his waist for support._

_ "You're badly hurt, Professor! You've got more than bumps and bruises! Please let me go fetch Madam Pomfrey!" she said in a stage whisper._

_ Ignoring her, he reluctantly leaned on her for support, taking the few steps forward to his door. Removing his arm from around her shoulder, he placed his hands on either side of the door facing. He leaned his forehead on the solid, splintered wood, trying to block her so she could not hear his password. His nose was an inch from the door and he mumbled as quietly as possible, "Know-it-all." The wards dropped and the door clicked open._

_ Smiling at the floor, Hermione decided to make no comment, and she focused on helping the injured wizard to a green wingback chair that was closest to the door. He flopped down on the cushion, expunging all his air in a low, painful groan, and she warded the door behind them. She pulled the matching ottoman under his feet and propped them on it. She turned around to search for his potions, but her breath hitched when she saw his enormous, overstuffed bookshelves covering the walls, and she inhaled the musty cologne of antiquated leather. Despite the pain he was in, she was acutely aware of the pleasure he took in her reaction to his massive book collection, and she touched the binder of Shakespeare's Folio, a first edition copy of sonnets. Before she knew it, she had the book open in her hands, caressing a page with her fingers, skimming a sonnet that made her smile. _

_Holding his shoulder to contain the bleeding gash, blood continued to trickle from his nose with a bit more force when he wheezed, "My prized possession." _

_ She slammed the book shut, suddenly feeling unworthy of touching such a valuable treasure when she should have been tending to his bleeding wounds. Pulling a white, linen handkerchief from her pocket, she glanced at the pink initials that her mother had embroidered for her. Without further regard to its sentiment, she balled it up and placed it under his nose to catch the blood. _

"_Hold that," she ordered, taking his hand and placing it on top of the white cloth. Her eyes darted around the room, "Where are your potions?"_

_ "Look in the left drawer of my desk. The password is 'bat piss'," he said nasally, careful to keep the handkerchief fixed to his nose exactly as she had instructed._

_ She ran to his desk, recited the password, and took out two odd-shaped phials from the drawer. Recognizing the blue one as pain potion, she unstoppered it on her way back across the room, and handed it to him first. He accepted the bottle and downed the contents, grimacing as he swallowed. He did the same for the other, and she placed the phials in her pocket, as she had no other place to put them. Leaning his head against the back of the chair, he sighed audibly, enjoying the feeling of instant relief from the pain. _

_She tugged at the top buttons of his jacket, working diligently to remove it so she could tend to his bleeding shoulder. For every button she unfastened, she felt her blood heating up, and she was glad that he had closed his eyes because she did not think she could undress the upper part of his body with him looking at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and freed him from his jacket. As she was undoing the buttons of his white shirt, she reminded herself that he was her patient and she was acting as his Medi-Witch. Still, she was anxious because the only parts of his body she had ever seen were his face and his hands. He was never dressed in anything other than his conservative layers and she wondered if she would ever get to his skin. Finally, she peeled the bloody shirt away from the oozing gash on his shoulder and placed it aside. Pulling out her wand, she took notice of the dark meadow of fine, masculine hair covering his sternum, and she followed the small trail of it leading all the way down his abdomen until it disappeared under the waistband of his trousers. _

_Her face flushed red, she turned her eyes away from him, and swallowed hard, readying her wand to heal his gash. Looking at his shoulder once more, she felt his eyes land softly on her face, and she could see from the corner of her eye that his lips were slightly parted as though he was going to say something. She was embarrassed for enjoying the titillating feeling it gave her when he looked at her like that. _

_She focused all her attention on the ugly gash on his shoulder and she had to think harder than usual to recall the simple healing spell she had learned in her third year before she could perform it. However, she quickly mended the cut as well as any other bleeding knick she could see, and Scourgified all traces of blood. Examining her work on his shoulder, she lightly traced the neat seam with the tip of her finger, and she saw chills sprinkle across his skin under her touch. Her eyes widened and they mindlessly darted to his face, making eye contact with him for the first time since she had seen him in the pub. _

"_I don't think you'll have a scar," she breathed, glancing nervously back at the place she had touched. _

_Scanning his arms, and his chest, she could see many other scars, and some were obviously from past painful wounds. Her fingers moved to touch a jagged line on his breast bone, and she asked quietly, "How did you get this one?" _

"_Cruciatus," he replied, looking away from her._

_She moved to touch his other arm, finding another different shaped scar to ask about, and she caught a glimpse of the ugly black Dark Mark stamped onto his skin. Drawing back her hand, she cocked her head, and studied the offending thing. _

"_Yes, Miss Granger," he said, lacking the usual venom in his voice. Pulling his arm away, he looked into her eyes, and whispered, defeated, "I am a Death Eater."_

_She fell into the black pools of his eyes. Her heart pounded for him when she glimpsed into his soul and she offered him absolution for his haphazard transgressions. She knew for certain that he had been working as a double agent for the light, and she wondered if he felt the warm field of sacral power that flowed from her directly into him. He looked away, closing his eyes to break any chance of further eye contact or conversation on the matter._

_He had removed the cloth from his nose to respond to her and she saw the blood continuing to drip from it. Taking her wand, she promptly muttered, "Episkey", and healed his broken nasal bones. Although she was impressed that he did not flinch when the tiny bones corrected themselves, she became irritated that he had ended the dialogue. She removed the afghan from the back of the chair across from him, glaring at him as she draped it across his chest. He opened his eyes when he felt the soft cloth covering him._

_Placing her left hand on her hip, she counted on her right hand as she tartly spoke, "Death Eater! Professor! Potions Master! Spy! Whatever the bloody hell you want to call yourself, I trust you with my life or I wouldn't be here right now!"_

_She was certain he would reprimand her for her for insubordination, but he began to laugh out loud, seemingly proud that she had retorted in such a reckless way. _

"_You are a very brave and brilliant young woman, Miss Granger," he said in a velvet tone. "Your friends are extremely fortunate to have you among them. It is regrettable, however, that they do not have a clue as to how lucky they really are."_

_She stared at him, her brows furrowed, watching his face to confirm the sincerity in his voice as he spoke the ultimate compliment. She became speechless and she blushed. Smiling brilliantly, she became aware of the stretching of her lips across her teeth when she said, "Thank you, Professor. Coming from you that is the best compliment of my life."_

"_How long have you known that I held all of the titles you so insubortinately named?" He asked, relieved, almost joking. "Nevermind. That no longer matters. I am tired, Miss Granger. I will excuse you for being out of your room after curfew this once."_

"_Good night, Professor," she whispered._

The smile on her face quickly disappeared when Harry's voice brought her from the memory and she saw the roof of the Shrieking Shack come into view beyond the tree line.

"We're almost there." Harry told them in a low, cautious tone. "Best get your wand ready."

Gripping her wand tighter in her right hand, she slid her left into her pocket and felt the fancy glasswork of the two phials from Snape's study. She carried them with her most of the time only because they were something of _his_ and he had apparently forgotten about them because he never requested for them to be returned. For the time being, the imperfections of the bumps and ridges in the glass secretly gave her comfort, reminding her of the perfectly flawed, tender soul that lay inside of Severus Snape.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Purgatory

Reaching the outskirts of the Shrieking Shack, the trio ducked behind a hedge wall to hide from an approaching figure. Hermione's heart surged when she saw the dark, cloaked stature of Severus Snape majestically enter the front door of the Shrieking Shack.

Harry started to move toward the creaky old building, but Ron pulled him back, his voice quivering, "Shouldn't we wait for the Aurors to arrive?"

Harry snapped back, "If we want to catch Voldemort, we'll have to do it now. He's in there. Now's our chance!"

Shaking his arm free from Ron's grasp, he moved forward into the groaning shack. Hermione followed right behind, but Ron took a moment and swallowed hard, shaking with the fear of what awaited them inside.

The wind howled through the cracks of the Shrieking Shack, and the dilapidated wooden stairs creaked under Severus Snape's feet as he ascended them to meet with the Dark Lord. He was acutely unaware of the Golden Trio hiding in the shadows behind him. Harry's wand was aimed and ready to blast the professor, but Hermione placed her hand on top of his and lowered his arm, shooting him a scathing look.

Ahead of them, Snape opened the door to the room at the top of the stairs and he walked inside, leaving the door ajar.

"My Lord," they heard the Potions Master say as he entered the dimly lit space.

Ron trembled when he stepped up to the next stair and it screeched under his weight. He froze in place with the others looking at them in terror. Holding their breath, they were certain that his clumsy foot would have alerted the inhabitants of the room to their presence. However, the unnatural noises of the ancient creaking building seemed to have muffled the sound. Ignoring Ron, Hermione never took her eyes away from the cracked door just a few steps away from them, and she crept closer, straining to hear the conversation happening inside the room.

Voldemort hissed, "You have have been a loyal servant, Severus, but you see…I have learned the truth of the Elder Wand and you are the true owner. That is the reason it would not perform its great powers for me. I'm afraid the only way to own it is to kill you, my old friend." Pulling his cloak casually together, he pretended remorse when he commanded Nagini, "Kill!"

Before Snape could answer, Nagini shot from her Master's side. She struck Severus Snape suddenly on the neck, sinking her mammoth sized fangs deep within his flesh, ripping it open while she thrashed her long, heavy tail. Voldemort gnarled through his unnatural mix of human features, laughing while his pet snake killed the wizard who had acted as a double agent for the light.

Sensing their approach, the Dark Wizard left Nagini to finish her job, and he turned into a flaming ball of liquid lava, suspended in air. On a sudden crescendo, his evil laugh grew louder as he descended the stairs, leaving droplets of fire splashing in his path. His trail knocked the Golden Trio against the wall, and Ron fell down the stairs, landing at the bottom, scrambling for his wand. He threw a few weak curses at the Dark Wizard, and he continued hurling them as he ran all the way into the front courtyard, with Harry following right behind. Hermione cast Aguamenti spells to put out the quickly spreading line of fire that Voldemort had trailed behind during his escape.

In the room at the top of the stairs, crippling pain engulfed Snape as the serpent's pulsating fangs penetrated deeper into his neck, releasing all of her poison. The pale wizard's hands instinctively flew to the wound, gripping the burning place, but he fell to his knees when the venom began to spread throughout his bloodstream.

He heard the door fling open, and he saw a stream of red magic fly across the room, knocking the enormous snake against the far wall. It landed like a tube of coiled rubber on the floor, and then it disintegrated into ashes. He did not see who held the wand that had cast the spell, nor could he identify a single soul who would do such a selfless, if not stupid, thing for him. In that second, he knew that he could no longer serve under a master, and he was certain that whoever had tried to save his life would indubitably want something in return.

He could not focus his eyes due to the pain of the thick poison flowing through his veins like hot syrup. He felt it blistering the inside of his body, and he convulsed, screaming as the pain crippled him.

The poison continued to rush through the rest of his body into every capillary and follicle, and he fell onto his side, his limbs completely paralyzed. Tenderly and suddenly, he felt a set of capable, feminine hands lift his head from the floor. Determined, trembling fingers nudged open his mouth and poured in a phial of vile thick liquid. His eyes watered, suddenly afraid he would not be able to swallow the substance, and he would certainly choke, unable to cough. The hand that held his mouth quickly pushed it closed, and massaged his neck, forcing him to swallow the swill. Involuntary muscles in his throat allowed him to cough and sputter on the last remaining drops, and he felt the fiery pain inside his body being replaced by a feeling of peace like he had never known.

Harry returned with Ron, and they watched Hermione indomitably working to save the life of Severus Snape. Their mouths hung open in shock, but out of his love and empathy for Hermione, Harry got to his knees to try and help his best friend save the man he hated the most.

As the dying wizard awaited his fate, he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes to find a very blurry Harry Potter kneeling beside him. Without thinking, and very casually, he extracted memories from his mind that he needed to leave behind for Potter. Snape knew from experience that a wizard with hate in his heart was darker and sometimes weaker. He did not want that for Lily's son, so he gifted the boy with proof that he had only done what Dumbledore had asked of him. Later, after the ashes of the war had settled, he knew that the young wizard would learn the truth, and the spreading evil of hatred would leave Harry's heart. Snape knew that the memories he gifted to Potter would do some good in the world. More precious than Galleons, they were the only thing left in his mortal world that meant anything to him.

Moving his ear closer to try to understand what Snape was trying to say, Harry saw the memories floating from behind the stringy, raven hair of the older wizard. Grabbing the empty phial from Hermione, he collected the floating iridescence in the glass and she quickly stoppered it with her free hand.

Harry's eyes locked onto hers, and he could not understand her emotional reaction to the professor's impending death. He assumed the stress from the war was getting to her, but deep down he knew it was more than that. Her usual glimmering, questioning expression had been replaced with a look of somber determination, and her dark amber eyes never seemed to focus on him completely. Harry broke eye contact, and tried to hide his anger for having seen her crying over the murdering bastard now lying on the grimy, planked floor of the Shrieking Shack.

Pocketing the phial holding Snape's memories, Harry glanced down at his former professor with disgust and loathing only to be shocked by the fatherly look emanating from below. A slight, lazy smile lifted the corners of Snape's mouth, and Harry shuddered, yet he strangely appreciated a feeling of paternal approval that his own father had never had the chance to offer him. It was a look of sincerity that unnerved him, and it made him briefly think that Hermione could have possibly been right about her theory. He thought that a defeated, evil wizard could never offer such a tranquil expression if he was truly guilty of vengeful murder. A sudden pang of regret ran through Harry's throat, but it was too late. The wizard was dying.

Closing his eyes, Snape felt the familiar gentle, feminine hands lower his head to her accompanying breast, and he welcomed the respite that apparently came with death, but he wanted to see the person who had tried so valiantly to save his life. He relaxed into what he hoped to be the final moments of his life, and he glanced up to see the disheveled outline of Hermione Granger's hair. Her face came into view and he focused his eyes well enough to see the glossy amber orbs of a heartbroken young woman. Her lips were moving, but he could not make out the words she so quietly whispered.

_Such a sweet face_, he thought, watching her talk. _The brightest witch of her age_.

One of her tears fell onto his face, splashing across his lips, and he tried in vain to protest her grief over him, but only air escaped his throat in one long, broken wheeze.

His organs and muscles were completely shutting down, and he no longer felt the pain of the burning in his limbs. He was grateful that Miss Granger had thought of putting pain relieving ingredients into her antivenin, but she had included a bit too much of the Draught of Living Death. He could not tell her his feelings on the subject, nor lecture her for making a potion in haste. Surprisingly, he was not angry with her for the mistake, and the only emotion he felt was gratitude that someone cared enough about him to try and help him. He could only see her face and hear the panic in her voice when his eyes closed, and his breathing appeared to stop.

"No, Professor! No!" Hermione moaned painfully.

Harry stood and braced Hermione's arm, "C'mon, Hermione, let's go. You did the best you could. Nagini's poison was just too strong for your antivenin."

Ron yelled from the door, "I can't understand why you're wasting your time on him! Let's go!"

Shrugging them off, tears of grief and rage spilled from her eyes, and she cried out, "It can't end for him! Not like this!"

Hermione reluctantly and gingerly lowered the Potions Master's head to the floor and she rocked her body back and forth, processing the pain that overtook her. Lightly brushing the hair away from his face, she cried too hard to speak, and she alone knew that losing Snape meant losing her lifeline to intellectual reality. She had known his loyalty to the light, and she had never truly believed that he was the murdering bastard that everyone thought him to be. To her, he had been the constant force that challenged her, intrigued her, and made her feel necessary. She had done her best to exceed his expectations, hoping to one day earn his affections and offer him a life of love and happiness, but that dream had just ended.

Her sobbing became unbearable and she lost her breath, recovering with an accidental high pitched moan that echoed throughout the room, as well as the rafters of the Shrieking Shack. Blinded by tears, she was too distraught to care about the dangers of who may have heard her cry of grief, and she did not see the black liquid of Severus Snape's eyes flashing up at her when they popped open, wide awake.

"Let's go!" Ron yelled from the doorway, "The Greasy Git got what he deserved! Now, let's go, Hermione! They're coming!"

Snape could not speak nor move, but he was fully conscious. Instead of feeling panic, he was confused as to why Hermione Granger, the little know it all, was crying over him with such passion and sincerity. He was certain that she should loathe him on the same level as her two best friends for his past transgressions and his bitterness toward them, but her actions had him baffled. The more he thought about it, he realized she had been extremely helpful when he had returned from painful meetings with the Dark Lord. He had never expected her help, yet she had given it freely, along with her fierce loyalty. He also knew that giving up was not something she ever did easily.

Her hair covered his face when she buried the bridge of her nose where his neck merged with his jaw, and she fisted the wool fabric of his cloak in her hands. Hot puffs of her breath heated his neck with each sobbing gasp of air she exhaled, and her tears wet his collar down to his skin.

Desperately, he wanted to yell, "If you will kindly remove your uncontrollable mop from my face, you will see that I am very much alive, Miss Granger!"

The antivenin in his bloodstream battled the poison, and his eyes closed involuntarily, falling shut like heavy iron doors. Her face remained etched on the backs of his eyelids, but he could not again open them, much less speak. He could feel and hear her, but he could not respond to protest or to enjoy her unexpected caresses, and he was scared for the first time in his life.

She felt the urgent need to be close to him, if only for a moment. Just once, she needed to hold him, and feel his body next to hers as a woman, and not a student. Moving to lie next to him, she placed her head on his shoulder, and caressed his face, trailing his masculine stubble with her fingers.

"I'm so sorry I let you down, Professor. My potion wasn't good enough to save you," she whispered breathily. Her breath caught in her chest and she fought a new rush of tears.

Hermione had never touched him before with such familiarity, nor had she ever seen him in any way other than protective and authoritative. However, his soul was now gone, and the shell of what had been her Potions Master remained fixed, cold, and vulnerable. Pressing her cheek to his, she suddenly felt guilty for violating the privacy he consistently maintained, but she did not move away from him.

Caressing the sensual, curvy lines of his peaceful mouth with the tips of her fingers, she leaned closer to his lips and whispered, "I love you Severus Snape."

Taking in a quick breath, she affectionately pressed her tear stained lips to his, kissing him ever so softly and sincerely. Withdrawing slowly, she knew she needed to go and fight, but her lips remained mere inches from his mouth, and she whimpered, "Goodbye, Professor."

Harry and Ron loomed in the doorway, their wands ready to fight the oncoming dark enemies, but they stood gaping at her with appalling shock at what she had done right in front of them.

"Hermione!" Ron huffed, puzzled and exasperated, "That was disgusting!"

She ignored her best friend, feeling guilty for keeping her secret hidden from him. But her heart ached for the only man she knew she would ever love, and she was too grief-stricken to become enraged at her closest friends.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Panic

Getting to her feet, she wiped her eyes on her sleeves, and straightened her robes. Inhaling a dignified deep breath, she caught her wind to go and finish the fight. Her brow furrowed in concern and anger, and she readied her wand, rushing past her friends on her way out of the room quickly enough to not give them another second to hurl another insult at her for her actions. Outside the door, she had a change of heart, and she spontaneously turned and threw her arms around each of them.

Her throat was sore from holding back tears, and her voice shook, "I don't want to lose either of you tonight!"

Snape heard the sincerity in her voice, and he was angered by thinking that both boys returned her affection by putting their hands on her at the same time while they embraced. _How touching_, he thought as sour tasting bile rose in the back of his throat.

Harry and Ron took her into their circle, and sandwiched her between them, hugging as a group, knowing it may be the last time they would ever embrace alive. Snape was bitterly jealous, hearing the gasps of their failed attempts to stifle their sobs, and he was afraid he would vomit and asphyxiate on it.

However, their tender moment was interrupted by a stray hex that almost hit Ron between the eyes, but he ducked in time to dodge it. Harry threw a binding spell at the masked Death Eater who had been creeping up the stairs toward them, causing the darkly-dressed Death Eater to fall, fighting the ropes that bound him to the floor.

Hermione charged ahead past the struggling man, calling back to her friends, "Let's go! And stick together!"

Her footsteps retreated, and Snape listened for them until they disappeared behind the explosion of a missed Killing Curse coming from charging Death Eaters. He identified hers as the prominent, feminine voice that was commanding hexes and curses, and he was relieved to know she had not been killed in the attack.

Helpless, Severus Snape could only lie still and listen to the sounds of curses shooting through the air and the cries of agony of familiar voices on the other side of the wall. He remained paralyzed on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, praying for death to take him away from that place before he could hear the terrible screams of Miss Hermione Granger being slain.

A sudden will to live gave him new determination, and he struggled with all his strength to move, but his limbs were useless. Having no choice but to succumb to the prison of his body, he tried to mentally block out the thundering battle that raged on the other side of the wall from where he lay, virtually buried alive under the weight of his own limbs.

He could hear familiar Death Eater's voices commanding Avada Kedavra at every Order member they saw, and he recognized the last audible sounds of life of some of his comrades and acquaintances. The only comfort he had was listening for her voice to emerge every once in a while, unknowingly alerting him that her heart still beat within her chest.

The more he listened, he decided that despite the panic in her voice, he admired her level headed decisions of defensive and offensive spells and he marveled at how she protected her two closest friends while taking down grown wizards. He decided that should he have to enter a Wizard's fight with her, he would not want to be on the receiving end of any magic she was capable of throwing, and he was proud of her.

_Merlin's Beard! I have grown fond of her!_ He thought. She had been crying for him as she confessed her most guarded secrets. When had she developed these feelings for him? It was then that he realized her presence had given him enormous comfort during his life and during what she had believed to be his final moments. She had been an angel of goodness through many of the lowest points of his life, and he thought again silently, _Merlin's Beard! I've grown fond of her!_ Perhaps her tears are what had saved him from death, he thought.

Over the past seven years, he had helped to shape the woman she had become, and she had proven to be his intellectual equal. She had been the constant force in his life that had kept his sights on the wizard he really was, living up to her expectations. He had grown to depend upon her to help him keep his balance while he performed his duties as a double agent, and she had remained loyal to the end. Something about her had always struck his curiosity, but he could never show favoritism, especially to a Gryffindor. He had never purposely acted in a way other than professional, and he was certain that he had sent her away before she could see his true fondness for her. He had been harder on her than anyone else because he wanted her to break and quit, leaving his life forever, but she rose to meet every impossible punishment or assignment he ever imposed on her. She amazed him every day and he learned things about himself through her constant quest for truth.

He suddenly felt guilty for intimidating Viktor Krum before the visitor escorted Hermione to the Yule ball. He had told Viktor that his intentions toward Miss Granger should be honorable, and if he saw any signs of inappropriate behavior coming from Mr. Krum, he would have him castrated. He had made his point clear by pointing his wand at Mr. Krum's crotch, and now that he thought back, he was glad he had done it. Perhaps he had harmed Miss Granger's love life by interfering with her romantic hopefuls, but none of them had been worthy of her, and now he was saddened that he had not averted her feelings to some younger, more deserving wizard than himself.

The door shook on its hinges when a stray hex blew a gaping hole straight through it, bringing Snape from his thoughts, and he surged into panic mode when the abrupt impulse to protect the young witch engulfed his senses. Empowered with a growing determination to fight, he resolved to protect her from the dark wizard that had taken away all traces of joy from his life. He would be damned if Voldemort took her from the Wizarding World. _Not her_, he thought, _she has too much talent, too much potential. The world is a much better place with her in it. She WILL NOT die on this night! _He would see Voldemort dead, and he looked forward to seeing the lights fade from the Dark Lord's eyes as his soul descended to the lowest realm of hell.

Piercing, feminine screams cut through the momentary silence, and he struggled to rise from the floor, but his muscles refused to work. The more he tried to move, the heavier he felt. Every limb and cell on his body was too heavy to move, including his eyelids. He knew that Miss Granger had given him an antivenin, and he believed that it was causing severe side effects as it merged with the stronger one he had brewed earlier in the day, but he should have been asleep, not trapped inside his body wide awake inside this Purgatory. Although he knew the effects of the potion were temporary, he violently struggled to make his body cooperate with his wishes.

Winded from many failed attempts to get up, his lungs could not inflate to accommodate his need for air as rapidly as he required it. He became weak, turning cold. He could hear the thundering war outside through the broken windows, and he listened to her voice shouting defensive spells as well as killing curses at any Death Eater that stood in her way. Having no choice but to lie still and listen to the horrific sounds of war, he prayed for death to come to him before he could hear the shrill cries of the death of the young woman who had said she loved him. There was no way he would be able to save her. His breathing returned to normal, but he could not stop the burning sensation in the corners of his eyes. A single hot droplet leaked from both of his eyes, turning cold before they trickled into his ears.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Escape

Over the course of the evening, the final battle had progressed from Hogsmeade to the grounds of Hogwarts Castle. Hermione had been chased inside, just dodging a Killing Curse. Hours later, she was sluggish as she climbed out from under a heavy, overturned table in the Great Hall. At some point, she had been hit with the stunner of a fleeing Death Eater and the table had landed on top of her after she fell, hiding and protecting her from further harm. When she woke, her first thought was to try and find Ron and Harry while she tried to remember how she came to be underneath the table. After standing, she looked around the room, and her arms became limp at her sides, barely able to hold the wand that was loosely dangling between the fragile fingers in her right hand. She stumbled as she shifted her feet between the rows of bodies that lay side by side on the marble floor. Some of their faces were missing, and blood still flowed from their fresh fatal wounds, spilling onto the dirty fingers and hands of others laid out near them. As she passed each one, she glanced at the bodies to make sure her two best friends were not among the dead.

When Hermione reached the Great Foyer, she moved to the side and braced herself on the wall, allowing room for Filch to carry in the body of a first year Hufflepuff. The deceased student had been a girl that she had only spoken to twice during that year. Hermione looked away quickly after seeing the lightless, still eyes of the limp form in Filch's grasp. Holding onto the wall while he passed by her, Hermione cupped her hand over her mouth to keep from throwing up. Filch's shadow disappeared into the Great Hall and she slipped through the door onto the front lawn of the castle.

Inside, Draco Malfoy angrily jerked his arm away from his father's grip and started toward the door.

Lucius called after his son, "If you walk through those doors to go after that Mudblood…"

Draco turned and interrupted his father with a hateful glare.

"You will be cut off from our family without a Sickle!" Lucius continued. His voice was louder than he intended, but he maintained blazing eye contact with his son.

Draco placed his face inches from his father's and seethed, "_Mudblood? _ You really are pathetic. You think I haven't seen how you've looked at her?" Draco was careful to speak so that his mother could not hear his words. "I saw the memory you put in your Pensieve_. _ You _watched_ her through the mirror while she was bathing!"

Lucius backed away from his son and pointed his wand at the young wizard's forehead.

Draco stood at his full height and leaned into the tip of the elm wood wand. His eyes did not blink and they never left his father's. "Go ahead, Father. Kill me! _Obliviate_ me! Make me forget how you were a Voldemort worshipping Death Eater! Make me forget how you lusted after Hermione Granger!"

Lucius raised is wand to cast the spell, but he gradually lowered it. He could not deny the truth and he was certain that his son had seen his forbidden fantasy. He only watched as Draco stormed out of the room.

Turning around, Lucius saw that his wife was oblivious to the living. She stared into an unknown dimension with her hands folded on her lap, poised like a lady in waiting. Perched on a chair, she was graceful island in the sea of bodies being laid out around her and it had sent her mind to another place. He touched her shoulder and was angered that she had not noticed his generous attempt to comfort her. He had left the Dark Lord's side only for self preservation and he now believed Narcissa betrayed him with tears of sympathy for the ones responsible for the Dark Lord's demise. His mind became a raging inferno of incoherent rage and confusion and he stalked out of the Great Hall, not bothering to step over the fallen students in his path. In his fury, Lucius did not notice Filch kneeling to place another cadaver on the floor and he ran into the old caretaker, knocking him on top of the young, pale Hufflepuff. Filch gasped, but Lucius made his exit without ever turning around.

Outside the castle, Hagrid's small hut smoldered in the distant silence of morning. The chill in the damp air caused Hermione to shiver as she moved through the ruins of war. The wind whispered a painful moan and she scanned the bodies littered on the grounds. Against the backdrop of smoke and rising ashes, she could only make out random clumps of dark cloaks that looked like spilled ink on the grass. Her first instinct was to find Professor Snape. He would be there somewhere issuing orders and instructions for what was to be done. She saw the form of a tall, cloaked shadow moving toward the front gate and she ran toward the wizard. After only a few steps, she opened her mouth to call out for Snape, but she tripped and fell over two bodies. Upon landing, her memory from the night returned and she was hit with the reality that her professor was dead. She tried to cry out, but her breath hitched instead when she saw who lay underneath her.

She looked closer to see who had cushioned her fall and she recognized the jagged scar on Harry's forehead, as well as the red hair of her other best friend. Their skin was cold and their eyes were closed. Hermione's throat ached from the involuntary flexing of the muscles that burned with tears stabbing their way through her sinuses. She opened her mouth to scream out, but only a muffled squeak escaped her voice box, and she became dizzy with grief.  
>Memories of her first meeting with Harry and Ron on the Hogwarts Express rushed to the forefront of her mind and she wanted to go back to that time. Her magical life had begun on that trip when she repaired Harry's broken glasses. However, she was sorry that she had laughed at Ron when his attempt to turn his fat rat yellow had failed. If she could just go back, she could save them and protect them. She felt guilty for being alive when all she loved was gone and she had no idea in which direction to continue moving. She needed to escape, but she could not think of anywhere to go. She could not run to her parents, Professor Snape, or Dumbledore, and she did not think she could not stand the thought of finding Professor McGonagall murdered, as well.<p>

Leaning forward, Hermione embraced the two young men who had been her right and left hand for so many years and she wished the love she felt for them could bring them back to life. Her mind began to spin and recall a fast-forward version of their years as friends and she could not process their deaths as reality. There would be no way she could continue living without them. Sitting back on her heels, she wiped her eyes and opened them to see Harry's glasses lying on the blood stained grass nearby and she gently placed them back on his head, careful to rest them on the upper part of his nose just as he had always preferred. She knew he would need them. Ron's sweater that his mother had knitted for him one Christmas was exposing his lower back, and she straightened it, pulling the edge into place over the back pocket of his jeans. _That should keep him warm, _she thought_. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't want him to be cold. Oh, no. Mrs. Weasley…How will she take this? No! No! No! _

She stood, and backed slowly away from her two lost friends, shaking her head to try and wake herself from the ensuing nightmare. Distraught, confused, and dizzy, she could not handle the sudden grief and loss. She screamed, still hoping her Potions Master was looming in the shadows to come just in time to save her, but she knew he would not. Weaving toward the front gate, her wand fell from her hands, and she did not care because she could only think of getting away from that place, running to escape the intense pain of having lost every person closest to her in one evening. She thought of her parents, and she was filled with remorse for having altered their minds, now missing them and needing them more than ever. She thought to Obliviate her own mind, but she couldn't remember how to do it, and the instinct to feel for her wand had failed her. The wind picked up and blew the stench of burning flesh and rotting death into her lungs, and her own voice joined in unison with the moaning of the castle grounds. Leaning against the cold metal of the outside bars of the front gate, she stared blankly ahead into darkness as her mind searched for somewhere else to go.

Draco called to her as he ran to catch up with her, but she was too far away to hear him. Stopped by the bodies of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, he briefly looked upon them with remorse and apology. He assumed his own father had murdered them just after Voldemort fell, adding to his already seething hatred of the man. Draco glanced in Hermione's direction to see her resting by the gate and he moved quickly forward to get to her. The closer he go to her, he could see that her body and her mind had separated. Picking up his pace, he was determined to help her.

Unaware of her surroundings, Hermione's subconscious mind took over, pulling her through the worst moment of her life, and she had a random flashback of sitting in the waiting room of her parents' dental office when she had been four years old. She had thumbed through a Muggle magazine with lots of colorful pictures, and her tiny hand smoothed the slick page containing a picture of a white, sunny beach edging a blue-green ocean. She had never seen the ocean until she had seen that picture, and she marveled at the rich hues of the blue-green water as it met the sky in the horizon, only a slightly curved line separating the earth from the heavens. She had ripped the page from the magazine just before her parents turned out the light to leave for home, and she safely hid it in her desk drawer.

During the last glimpse of her rational mind, she dropped her cloak to the ground, shedding it like the skin of the glorious the life she had once known, and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep from looking back at the ruins. Taking in a long, deep breath through her nose, she focused on the serenity and peace that the image offered, and she Apparated to the place, even though she had no idea where she was going.

Emotionally and physically drained, she opened her eyes to see, hear, and smell the peaceful place where the water kissed the shore. Spinning for what felt like an hour, she finally stopped, and dropped to her knees, cushioned by soft, shifting sand. The fresh scent of sea water filled her lungs with warm, salty air, and she saw the sparkling, moonlit waters of a vast, dark ocean, pushing sluggish, heavy waves onto the shore of an unspoiled white beach.

Draco pushed open the gate and slipped through to the other side. He turned to close it behind him and looked back at the injured, smoldering grounds of his youth. He blamed his father just as much as Voldemort for everything that had happened, but he resented the wizard's sick lust for Hermione Granger more than anything. That was a particular memory he wished he could forget. While at the manor one Saturday, he had accidentally seen one of his father's recent memories in the Pensieve. Draco had put one of his own in the device before removing the other. When he entered the memory, he saw his father watching the young witch undressing for a shower. The memory had been acquired by a mirror charm. He had decided at the time to suppress it and never speak or think of it again for fear of hurting his mother.

Through the smoke rising from the castle grounds, Draco was certain he had seen the tall, sinister form of Severus Snape moving in the distance. Gripping the bars of the gate, he was saddened by the thought that the murdered Potions Master could be a ghost. He continued to watch as the tall wizard kneeled beside the remains of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, and he could see as the sun became brighter that his Godfather was indeed alive.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Return to Spinner's End

The wind helped a much-weakened Severus Snape to fling open the front door at Spinner's End, sending wet leaves and debris flying into the room and disturbing the settled dust. He felt a surging relief that his childhood home had not been ransacked by the Dark Lord's black angels during the last days of the war. In fact, the wards on the small house had set themselves back to the original state his family had left behind, showing no trace of his last visit. Stepping inside, he almost fell backward when he tripped over the toy fire truck he had left there as a child, but he grabbed the door frame with his bloodstained hands, and steadied himself.

As soon as the skin of his palms met with the splintered wood, the sharp pain in his fingers reminded him of the traumatic day he left to attend Hogwarts when he was eleven years old. His mother was crying on the small front porch, afraid to stop his father from bidding his son farewell by giving the boy a broken nose. The young wizard forgot the blinding pain in his face when he felt the first rock sting his neck. Instinctively moving his small, bloodied hands from his nose, he used them to shield the fists full of pebbles his father angrily threw at him. Like buckshot from a gun, they stung his fingers, and he ignored the blinding pain of it all by running away, dropping his knapsack during his escape from the dysfunction and the seething hatred that thrived within the walls of 'home'.

Sending the toy rattling across the abandoned room with his boot, the wounded Severus Snape was pulled from the memory when he felt the tearing of the newly punctured holes in his neck. Miss Granger's healing spell had begun to expire, and he felt his life draining from him through two mammoth sized fang bites on his jugular vein. Mustering the last of his strength to keep moving, he desperately clutched his neck with his hand, and his pulse quickened, forcing slick, crimson blood to pump between his long, pale fingers. He closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it, out of breath, and slid his body to the floor. He stretched out his legs in front of him, and reached into his cloak pocket, pulling out a phial of healing potion. Placing the phial between his teeth, he pulled out the cork, spitting it bouncing across the grimy floor, and he tilted the contents into his mouth, swallowing hard.

Breathing in a long, deep breath, he felt the bubbling brew slide into his system, slowing the blood loss, and healing the wounds. He relaxed against the door, and exhaled a glottal moan of relief. The Dark Lord was dead, the Golden Trio was safe, Hogwarts was still standing, and Severus Snape was very, very much alive.

He held the small, ornate phial in front of his face, and was grateful he had found it randomly lying in the grass on the front lawn of the castle. He had been looking for that particular item for months and he wondered how it had come to be where he had found it. Recalling the events leading up to finding the phial, he knew he should have Apperated directly to his safe house immediately after regaining control of his body, but he had to search for _her_. By the time he walked out of the Shrieking Shack, the battle was over, and the horrors he suffered under Voldemort did not compare to the sickening sight of the dead students that lay wasted on the grounds at his feet. Turning over every unresponsive body to check for signs of life, he was faced with mangled faces, frozen with their mouths open in expressions of horror. All of them he had taught and had berated at one time or another in his dark Potions classroom.

He continued to reflect on the events of the previous evening while the Pain Potion allowed him some relief. He remembered that when he was at the gate to enter Hogwarts grounds, he found a wand, but it was too dark to identify it, and he abandoned the thought when he saw a clump of young students lying still just in the distance. Upon his approach he saw a dark haired young man who had apparently attempted to block the body of another soldier with his own. Snape had not needed to turn them over to see their faces in order to know who they were. Placing two fingers on the neck of the dark haired wizard, he felt a faint pulse, and had a conversation with the other.

_"Ennervate," Snape's voice broke, still unstable and drunk from the poison. "What happened to you?"_

_ Weasley answered weakly, his voice muffled by the earth under his face, "We were stunned right after Voldemort fell. I think my leg is broken. Harry took two stunners at once. I don't think he'll wake up for a while."_

_ Lifting his head, Ron looked around as best he could with Potter's weight binding him to the ground, but relief came when Snape freed him from underneath his best friend. Rolling onto his back, he grimaced from the pain in his leg and he rose up onto his elbows. The fire taking down Hagrid's shack backlit the smoldering fog settling in among lifeless human forms littering the grounds. _

_ "Where's Hermione?" Weasley demanded. Panicked, his eyes darted around the bodies, and landed on his former professor. "Did you kill her?"_

_ Taking a nearby wand, Snape hissed, while stunning the red head, "Shut up, stupid boy!"_

_ Weasley flopped back down, stunned to sleep, and Snape quickly healed the boy's broken femur. Turning to Potter, he cast a diagnostic spell, but found no wounds that needed healing. Satisfied they were both sleeping soundly; he cast a cloaking spell on himself and picked up the familiar phial of potion before he continued his hunt for Miss Granger inside the castle. _

_Inside, the torches burned as usual, casting light on the casualties lining the floor of the Great Hall. He recognized every single one of them, but was relieved to not see Miss Granger's remains among them. Due to the cloaking spell he had used on himself, he became weaker and weaker on his quest, but he did not leave until he was satisfied with the thought that she had somehow escaped with her life. During her last year at the castle, she always seemed to be there to help him after his cruel meetings with the Dark Lord, and looking at the wand in his hand, he recognized it as hers, and his hope of finding her alive began to fade. _

_ Taking one last look around at the ruins of what had been his home for most of his life, he swallowed hard, putting off his emotions as he stepped over the sleeping boys to make his way back to the front gate. Stone-faced, and clenching his jaws tight, Snape stalked straight to the edge of the grounds, blocking out the sights and smells of rot and ash along his path. Standing at the gate, he noticed a Gryffindor robe, and he picked it up, knowing immediately that it belonged to Miss Granger. Tucking her discarded robe under his arm, he closed his eyes, and Apperated to the last place on earth he ever thought he would return._

Running his fingers through his hair, he grieved that he had failed them on that night, and the guilt of being alive amongst the wasted young lives consumed him. The only relief he felt was that he had not found Miss Granger's body among the dead.

"Love me, indeed!" he laughed on the syllables with a raspy, insane cackle that echoed in the open room.

Touching his fingertips to his lips, he thought it ridiculous how he had lived his life so dangerously as a Death Eater and then as a double agent for the light. He had murdered one of his dearest friends, and had almost died many times in the process, but he had only received his first kiss as he lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He thought it ridiculous for her to have those feelings for him, and he chose to believe that she had simply been out of her mind due to the emotional strain she had suffered during the final days of the war. However, he held the phial to his heart, realizing she had once again helped him with the Pain Potion she had dropped on the ground. He remembered she must have kept the phials the night she helped him after the Dark Lord's torture. Even though she thought he was dead, she was still unknowingly saving his life.

Angry at her for reviving his will to live, he vowed to find her and admonish her for it. He had not planned to live past that night and he was not prepared to continue doing so. What was there left for him other than the possibility of spending time in Azkaban for his crimes as a Death Eater as well as the murder of Albus Dumbledore? He resolved that since he was alive, he would find her to see that she was alright and then he would explain to her how her actions had been inappropriate after drugging him with a paralyzing potion. How dare she take his life into her hands without his explicit consent, and violate his person with her embrace and her soft, wet lips!

_Find her_, he thought silently. "I promise." He rasped.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Ok, boys and girls, this is a long one. It comes to us as a result of sadness from having experienced the last movie and too much Crown and Coke that led to massive free-writing.

Chapter 8

Ambiguous Paradise

Hermione landed on the other side of the world, far away from the darkness and ambiguity of the Magical world, and she lifted her face to feel a warm, lazy breeze softly brush against her cheeks. It moved past her and rustled a thick jungle of hissing palm leaves behind her, and she began to draw slow, swirling patterns in the sand with her fingers.

Draco hoped she had not heard him slipping into the small forest of tropical foliage behind her when he arrived. He had followed the trail of her magic to find her. It had been easy since she had used the last of it to remove her physical body as far away from the Magical World as possible. He had no idea where they were and he did not care.

She was withdrawn and acting strangely, so he decided to remain quiet and keep an eye on her. Hidden behind a clump of brilliant pink Hibiscus, he heard the pop of Apparition, but he could not see who had invaded their paradise. He stood and readied his wand to strike.

Oblivious to anyone else's presence, Hermione took a fist full of sand and held it in front of her face. She allowed the small granules to spill out in a steady stream and watched them through a blur of tears falling steadily from her eyes. She was reminded of the Time Turner Professor McGonagall had once loaned to her. _What a waste_, she thought as the last of the sand fell from her hand. _Why did I work so hard to be the very best when none of it would matter in the end?_ All that she loved she thought she had lost, and her eyes averted to the steady, lethargic waves that slowly swept the endless edge of the continent. Like large hands summoning her to enter, the sheets of ocean retreated back into their endlessness, and she answered the call by swaying toward the blackness.

Her feet sank in the untouched, shifting sand underneath each step. She peeled off each garment of clothing, dropping them on the beach as she staggered toward the water. Standing at the edge of the ocean, she welcomed the warm currents as they licked at her ankles and sucked her feet into the wet sand underneath her, pulling her closer into the earth. She walked into the unknown of the dark waters twinkling with the light of the moon until she could no longer stand. The powerful, heavy waves took her down and washed her back to the surface, rocking her with the breathing tide. She allowed the sea to take her with its surf, cradling her with its massive, unseen arms as it pulled her into its suffocating belly. Opening her eyes, she could only see the faint glowing globe of the full moon, becoming smaller as she descended into the shadows of the ocean's abyss. When she began to run out of air, she moved her arms to propel her body back to the surface, but something around her ankle kept her from swimming to safety and the water around her became the thickness of oil. She struggled and tugged, but when she tried to push the restraint away from her ankle, she could feel nothing there.

Draco stood at the edge of the ocean, looking for her head to appear somewhere in the black pit of the motionless, moonlit water, but she did not show. He ran into the water, but it was so thick that he had trouble moving his legs at all. Becoming exhausted, he stopped to catch his breath and he called to her, but his voice only echoed across the slick top. Standing up to his waist in the black sludge, he did not fear for his own life, but he was sickened because he had not been able to rescue Hermione.

A cold, emotionless voice called to him from the beach, "Your Mudblood will no longer be a problem for our family. She is dead, just like the rest of them. Changing his tone to a more forced saccharine, he smiled a sinister grin. "Come home, son, and we will start a new revolution. We will return to our home and it will be just like old times."

Draco found new strength and he fought to trudge a few difficult steps through the thick liquid until his father released the spell. Draco's forceful determination was too much when the sludge became flowing water and he tumbled forward, splashing when he fell face down. His robes were saturated with seawater when he found his footing and he charged toward his father, swinging his fists. Lucius dodged his son's anger by Disapparating , leaving behind an echo of his mocking, evil cackle. Draco's efforts were futile and he fell on the sand when his violent swing missed the target.

Close to what she thought was the bottom of the ocean, Hermione exhaled all of her air, and she watched as it danced away from her in floating orbs that became smaller as they rose above her, scurrying to the surface to reach the moonlight. Before inhaling her last, panicked breath, a vivid splash of yellow, blinding light grabbed her wrists and pulled her from the grasp of the sea to the safety of the beach in the measure of a second.

Draco was blinded by the sudden light when it rose from the water and placed Hermione at his feet, coughing and sputtering. Removing his cloak, he threw it over her naked, chilled body, and turned her onto her side, helping her to expunge the sea water from her lungs. When she was able to breathe normally, she looked at him, and he knew that Hermione's mind was gone due to the absence of the lights in her usually inquisitive eyes. He held her to his chest, and thought of nothing but getting help for her.

Opening her eyes, she thought she saw the antiseptic walls of a depressing hospital room, and she closed them, confused and disoriented. When she opened her eyes again, she knew she was where she wanted to be. Comforted by the buffered lights and the crackle of a small fire burning across from her on the sand, she could feel a slight tropical breeze caressing her face, and a scratchy wool blanket wrapped around her to cover her bare body. She looked in the direction of the flames, and she watched some of the orange embers escaping, floating upward toward the open starlit sky, until one by one, they extinguished.

An aged male voice cracked, "S'more?"

Closing her eyes again, Hermione could feel the drab air of a basement room at St. Mungo's Hospital. Although she was very much sleepy, she knew she was in a place she did not want to be, and she began to wonder how she ended up in such a circumstance. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she emotionally retreated from a reedy, aged, non-feeling male voice that began to ask her questions she had no interest in answering. Closing her eyes, she was drawn into a deep sleep that would take her away from the reality of the psychiatric ward of the hospital and into a protected world within her own mind.

Hermione awoke shortly after, and looked through the dancing flames of the beach fire to see the jovial old man with a long, white beard holding a wooden tray piled with melted marshmallows and chocolate, sandwiched by what she thought were graham crackers. She propped up onto her elbow, careful to keep the blanket pulled to her neck.

"No," she rasped, trying to better see him through the flames and smoke. "No thank you," she added.

"Are you sure? I made this one just for you," he happily replied. "The chocolate is sure to do you some good."

"No. Maybe in a moment. I'm not very hungry right now," she yawned, looking at her surroundings.

The first thing she saw was the yellowing horizon. It looked as though the sun was going to burst up out of the water and set a flame to the path in front of it. She sat all the way up, securing the blanket tightly across her chest, and she anchored it under each arm, never taking her eyes off the majestic sunrise.

"Am I dead?" She asked, her mouth gaping open in awe at the colorful unfolding of the day.

The old man laughed, "No, My Dear, you are not dead and this is not the afterlife. However, I do have to admit that you chose a beautiful place for your escape." Looking around him, he took in a deep breath of fresh ocean air, and contentedly nibbled on one of his freshly made treats.

Hermione continued to watch the sun's reflection dancing on the water's surface as it rose out of the horizon. Taking a long, deep breath, she was filled with gratitude for the chance to see another day.

"Do you remember how you came to be on this beach?" He asked, studying her over his treat.

She considered the old man for a moment before she answered. Something about him was familiar, but she could not quite place it. He wore a red Hawaiian shirt with gold flowers in the shape of lions, and gray Bermuda shorts with the straps of red flip-flops crossing each pale, white foot. His skin was very whitish, and he was sweating, which made her believe he was not native to that area. She tried to remember how she became naked, and she realized she could not remember anything about her life at all. Not even her name.

"Who are you?" She asked, not yet panicked.

"I'm an old friend from your past, my girl. I'm afraid you won't remember much about your life. This will literally be the first day of the rest of your life." Chortling, he added, "Forgive the cliché, I just don't get to use it very often."

"You seem familiar to me," she maintained, ignoring his feeble joke.

He became saddened, "Perhaps, my girl, I should. We have known one another since you were eleven years old."

As soon as he spoke his last word, an angry clap of thunder sounded overhead, and he looked up through his eyebrows, angered at something she could not see. He waited, but no other sound came, and he focused his attention back to her.

"You have broken a law, my girl, and I am afraid I will not be able to help you." He said, shaking his fist at another loud bang of thunder.

"What have I done?" She asked, confused.

Ignoring her question, he continued, "In your case, I believe I almost understand why you did it." Exhaling, he smiled, "I know that you are a much stronger witch than what the Ministry wants to make of you, and I am positive that you still have a purpose to fulfill in your lifetime. It was only because of your heroics in the war that I was able to take on this form and speak to you about recent events."

Turning her head toward him in anger, she barked, "Heroics didn't save my friends, did it?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked at the ground. "How much do you remember of what happened before you came here?" He asked without looking at her, dreading her answer.

Her eyes welled with tears, and her face distorted into a grimace of such fierce pain happening inside of her that he could not look at her without sharing in her grief. She screamed in raspy cries as she watched the events of the previous evening play out in her mind. She became hoarse from the constant tension in the back of her throat from the pain of her muscles flexing to cry.

Draco watched her every move from her bedside and ran from the room in a panic to find a healer when her muscles tensed and she began to flop around on the bed, violently convulsing. She did not hear the commotion happening around her hospital bed as the team of psychiatric and medical personnel entered the room, giving her potions and writing on charts. When the room was once again empty, the remaining attendants followed the healer's orders and restrained her wrists and ankles with padded cuffs.

Outside the room, Draco asked the healer, "What's wrong with her? How long will she be like this?"

The tall, old woman answered as she walked away, "There is never a way to tell how long someone will be in this state. She is traumatized. She could wake up tonight, tomorrow, or years from now. There is also a chance that she will never wake. You should go home now and clean yourself up. Get some rest and come back tomorrow."

Draco glanced back into the dismal hospital room to see Hermione's helpless sleeping form. He could only feel empathy for her. He thought back on their conversation in the spiral staircase the night she had been sneaking down into the dungeons and he appreciated her for keeping his secret. She had proven to be loyal through the worst of times. He smiled and looked at the floor when he remembered seeing Hermione blush when he had mentioned her having a 'thing' for his godfather. She had reddened and looked away. Seeing her now while she slept, he was glad he had not taunted her about her obvious affection for Snape.

The Healer returned and closed the door, urging him to leave. "You may see her again tomorrow."

Draco nodded and strolled toward the front doors of the hospital, having no idea where to go. Passing two familiar looking attendants on their way into her room, he paid them no mind, and he exited the hospital, walking in the rain toward to the nearest Apparation point. He finally decided to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until he could find other arrangements.

Soon after Draco left the hospital, the two attendants stopped just inside the door of Hermione's room.

"Say, isn't this that Granger girl that fought against the Dark Lord?" The one on the right whispered.

"Shh!" the other attendant replied. "We are not supposed to speak of it! She'll bring a pretty penny when I tell Lucius about this."

On her beach, a rush of memories washed over Hermione like a tidal wave of ice water and she screamed, "Death! Everyone dead! I tr-tripped over them!" Mucous ran from her nose in strings.

Dumbledore handed her a large paper napkin, and she blew her nose on it while she tried to calm herself. Wiping her eyes, she folded it to dry places and dabbed at her tears until there were no more dry spots left to wipe with. Tossing the balled up wet mass into the fire, she watched as it turned black and curled around, taking the shape of two black cloaks lying on the castle grounds.

Severus Snape's cold, dead lips were all she could feel, and all she could remember was tripping over the bodies of Ron and Harry while the hollow moaning of the castle provided the background score. The memory played over and over in her mind, and she felt like she had been ripped in half, missing the most important elements of her identity. She should have died alongside them.

"My dear girl, there are some of us who have an infinite capability of love and loyalty. We hold certain people closer to our hearts than others, and we try to cover them in a protective shield of our affection, even when they are not with us. While it makes life more beautiful, it unfortunately does not protect them from simply being human. You are punishing yourself for something you could not help."

Looking at her face, he pointed a long, crooked finger at her, and he continued, "Ah, yes. I see it in your eyes. You feel guilty. You are stuck in a memory, and you play it continuously. Let me remind you that you have other memories besides that one. Might I suggest that you allow yourself an opportunity to reflect on some good memories? You have plenty of them because I have had the honor of being a part of a lot of them!"

Hermione lifted her face to see the old man smiling a serene smile, and she took comfort in his presence. She saw his steel blue eyes peering at her over his bifocals, and she remembered sitting across from him at his massive desk in his tower. Although she was ecstatic to see him back from the dead, she could only see his knobby knees and the pale white of his arms turning red as the sun rose. She thought her former headmaster looked funny dressed in beach clothes instead of his usual long robes, and her smile turned into a laugh.

His eyes danced with joy, and his voice lifted. "Ah! There is the smile I have so often missed! You don't like my shirt, do you? It was the closest thing to Gryffindor colors I could find at the gift shop."

Still laughing, she rasped, "It's a lovely color."

Catching her breath from laughing, she said, "I wish Harry and Ron were here to see what you're wearing! They would…" She stopped talking and all the lights of animation and emotion left her face, and she stared at the dying fire, watching the pale faces of her two dead friends in the embers.

Dumbledore began to pack up his picnic basket, frustrated that he could not offer the one piece of information that may have brought her back to reality. But he stopped and decided to give her every hint he knew he could give without divulging information that would cause him a world of trouble with the Ministry. Holding a roll of tinfoil in his hand, he picked up the wooden platter and once again offered the S'more to her.

"Are you more in the mood for this now, Miss Granger?" he asked, eying the treat as if it were more valuable than gold.

"No," she whispered, jumping at the start of seagulls screeching. Her eyes followed the birds as they flew overhead toward the rising sun.

"I will wrap this one for you. I have some aluminum foil right here," he said jovially, rattling the shiny roll as he pulled it from the container. Ripping the small foil sheet carefully across the teeth on the edge of the box, he added, "Curious thing…_Tin foil_…I buy some every time I visit a Muggle Market." Folding the treat inside, he painstakingly pressed the seams together with intricate precision and held it up for her to see, as if he had just wrapped a most precious gift.

"Thank you, sir," she rasped, unable to speak in her normal voice due to the hoarseness she felt in her throat. Smiling at him, she studied the shiny foil wrapper sitting in the palm of his hand. He had sculpted the tinfoil into the likeness of the castle from her memory, but his miniature castle was a thriving one. The yellow light from the sun reflected on the front doors of the replica, bringing it to life.

"Foil art…I find it to be amusingly therapeutic," he said proudly.

She accepted the shiny sculpture from him, and she noticed there were people standing in the windows of every level, and they were all smiling and happily waving. The faces were familiar, but no names came to her mind. The only wizard who wasn't smiling stood atop the highest ledge, standing guard, and looking out into the horizon. His black robes flowed all around him like liquid, and his wand hand was ready to strike at any threat. He was alone, but strong and mysterious, and his long, raven hair whipped around his face, never allowing her a glimpse of his features. She shuddered, unable to take her eyes away from him, and she felt a renewed absence within her heart.

"This is beautiful. Thank you, sir," she whispered, still staring in awe at the details of his handiwork, "I'm afraid I'll ruin this if I eat what's inside."

"Please enjoy the treat inside! It's the best part! I've spelled it so that it will stay in tact." Taking it from her hand, he demonstrated that to remove the S'more from the bottom of the sculpture, he had to only hold it in one hand, and tap on the arched front door twice. With the free hand, he lifted the castle from his other, and the S'more, along with a few other candies, magically appeared from within the castle.

"And to return it to its home, you cover it back up, and blow across the roof." He did as he had described, and then returned the gift to her waiting hands.

Dumbledore lifted her chin with his finger, and he cautiously advised, "You must promise me that you will not share this gift with anyone. I want you to have it because I cannot stand what has happened to you and it is not fair that I have to leave you with less information than I believe you deserve. However, you must put it away, and only look at it while you are alone. I hope it helps you to find your way back to your life."

"I promise I will keep it hidden." She looked around to find something to hide it in, and she realized that she did not have a single personal possession in which to store it. The old wizard gave her a loosely woven canvas bag that sparkled once when she had it in her hands.

Returning to the large log of driftwood where he had been sitting, he plopped down onto it, and turned his wand toward his face, commanding a cool misting fan to appear and blow on his reddened skin.

Exhaling, he added, "Focus on good memories, my dear, or the cycle may never stop and you could be here forever."

Her eyes darted to his face, and she whispered, "You said I broke…a _law_?"

He sighed. "Yes. You violated Article 75 under the Wizarding Acceptance Act. You knowingly abandoned your wand and used the last of your magic when you escaped the Wizarding world. The law is not applicable if you escaped because your life was in danger, but yours was not. The Ministry believes you tried to extinguish your light on purpose. Suffocating one's own light is an unspeakable act. Magic is a gift and wasting it is strictly forbidden."

Thunder banged overhead, and he yelled to the sky, "Hold on! That was one oversight! You said I was allowed to have two!"

Hermione looked above to try to see what he was talking to, but there was nothing but floating clouds.

Sighing, he resumed the conversation, "You must put your grief into perspective because you're blocking out some of the most important parts of your life." Before she could ask any more questions, he whispered hurriedly, "The only thing holding you here is your mind. Your punishment is to travel the journey back to yourself without outside help. As a magical being, you are having a nervous breakdown of the Muggle kind without your magical powers, or a wand in which to defend yourself. I cannot _legally_ offer you anything that could… _help you_." His eyes pointed to the bag containing the tinfoil castle.

Her eyes followed his and she understood what he meant. She nodded her head, lifting the right side of her mouth in a half smile. She appreciated the craftiness of the old wizard and the comfort he brought to her tortured mind.

Thunder banged and the clouds churned more forcefully. He looked overhead at the angry sky. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid I've said too much."

They were silent for a moment, but luckily the sky calmed, and the clouds relaxed, resuming their lazy positions above them.

He stood and casually brushed the sand away from his Bermuda shorts. "The only information I'm allowed to convey to you is that while you are on this island, accommodations have been made for you to have a most comfortable stay. However, I _will_ tell you one last bit of advice. Listen to me carefully."

Looking at the sky once more, he bent over to pick up the picnic basket, and he whispered, "The world inside your mind has been thrown off balance, and it is spinning out of control…unnecessarily. One should not always trust their eyes to dictate truth. "

Thunder clapped above them, interrupting him, and the clouds covered the new born sun. He held up his wand and an umbrella sprang forth, shielding them from the rain that had begun to splatter, drowning out any other sounds. He was certain he had given her too much specific advice, and he prepared his posture for departure.

Ignoring the rain, Hermione's eyes spilled tears, and she rasped, "I can't think of any good memories. My heart is black and dead, and cold. Could you _please _tell me some? I want to remember my friends and my life, and my parents, but I can only see the pale, dead faces of my best friends and a dark castle that looks like its crying tears of blood. Please help me!" She begged.

"I cannot share with you any of that or I run the risk of breaking the law myself. I will tell you this…" He looked defiantly toward the sky. "There is still a world that needs you and new memories to be made." He whistled, and called to the trees, "Fawkes! Time to go!"

From the thickest foliage of the oasis behind them, a red, fiery streak emerged, and it flew to the old man's shoulder. Its neck craned to better see her, and it squawked in her direction, breathing new life into the fire on the ground. She studied the bird, finding a strong connection with it in some way, like a lifeline. The bird somehow conveyed to her that he was put out with her because she had caused him to get wet when he plunged in to save her from drowning, despite his hatred for water.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Snape's Next Morning

The sun's glare radiated through a pane of broken window and glimmered directly into Severus Snape's eyes, painfully waking him from an arduous sleep on the hard, grimy floor. Burying his eyes in the crook of his arm, he was alerted to the stiffness in his neck, and he used his sleeve to wipe away the thick saliva that had collected across the side of his face. His throat was dry with raging thirst from having slept with his mouth open throughout the night, and he grimaced from the vile, bitter taste on his tongue. Licking his cracked lips, he tried to shift his body to sit up, but the twinge of Nagini's poison was still evident in his joints, cruelly reminding him that his life was yet to be over.

Momentarily disoriented, he took a moment to peer around the dusty room before shifting his stiff, sore body to accommodate any other position. Faded, sickly pink wall paper fell in shreds from the eroded cheap glue that his father had been given years before by the local charity. Thick rolls of dust and cobwebs hung like white rags from the light fixtures, filling in most cracks between the furniture, as well as the floor. The front window was cracked, but part of the small, circular stained glass window on the side of the house was broken, leaving long, jagged shards wedged in the frame. He was surprised the house was still standing, considering it had fallen into decades of blatant neglect.

Forcing himself to an upright sitting position with his left arm, he felt the sudden pain of Nagini's bite surge through his neck and pluck his spinal cord, sending a shockwave of torture throughout his fibers. Patting his tattered outer cloak pockets, he reached inside and pulled out a small brown phial of Healing Potion. Placing the cork between his teeth, he pulled it out and sent it bouncing across the floor, as was his routine. After swigging the potion, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned back his head to rest on the door, exhaling a sigh of relief as the pain quickly lessened, and the wounds began to heal.

Twisting the small cylinder in his fingers, the sun reflected on the muddy glass, and cast a glimmering starburst of amber sparkles in a kaleidoscope around the room. Entranced with the brilliance of the brownish-yellow colors sparkling under the command of the sun, he was reminded of Miss Granger's eyes looking sadly at him from overhead, empathetic and lost. He had felt her heart panicking within her chest when she had held his head close to her breast. How safe he had felt with her soothing voice in his ear.

Suddenly, a rush of images of the events of the previous evening pushed to the front of his mind. Familiar faces, pale and motionless, stared at him with open, questioning eyes as he turned their bodies to identify them. Tears waiting to come forward burned the back of his throat, and he felt the hot sting of liquid escaping the corners of his eyes. Wrapping his arms around himself, he held onto the comforting memory of Miss Granger's unexpected human kindness, and he allowed himself to mourn the shattered life he had left behind.

Wiping away the tears with his sleeve, he was distracted by a shadow partially blocking the broken window. He looked up to find a very small Chimney Sweep perched on the inside facing, studying him. The bird sang a friendly, high pitched whistle and turned its head, looking as though it wanted to ask a question.

Snape exhaled a long, audible sigh, and sadly asked the bird, "Where do I go from here?"

Chirping a few notes, the bird flew from the window to the kitchen and crooned a jubilant song. Snape could not see into the room where the bird had flown, but he could hear the brilliant echo of its twittering. Pulling himself into standing position, he shuffled into the kitchen, and leaned on the door facing, amused when he saw the bird sitting atop a dusty kettle on the stove, singing with gusto.

Snape sniggered, and asked in the form of a statement, "Tea. You want me to make tea."

Lifting an eyebrow, he suddenly did not think it was such an absurd idea, and he shuffled toward the sink, noticing that he felt much better than he had expected. He turned on the faucet, allowing it to run for a moment while he searched for any kind of tea. Looking through the dusty green canister that rested next to the stove, he found a couple of old, stale bags of generic tea, and enough Muggle money to buy ample rations to last for a week.

Satisfied that the water was clear enough to use, he filled the kettle and lit the stove with a match. While waiting for the water to boil, he walked to the window that overlooked the diminutive back garden. Careful to not touch the dusty gauze curtain any more than possible, he used the forefinger of his right hand to move it to the side so he could see out. The pretend potions lab that he and Lily had built together the summer before they entered Hogwarts remained somewhat intact. Some of the bottles were cracked, but still neatly aligned along the low cinderblock wall that separated his yard from the neighbor's property.

Sighing, he whispered, "Oh, Lily. At least I had you."

The kettle sputtered and emitted a broken whistle, taking him from his reverie. He used both teabags in one cup, and did not bother looking for cream or sugar. When he was certain that his tea was the right dark color, he took a sip and grimaced from the stale, rancid flavor. The little bird laughingly bounced around on the table and chirped until the wizard had finished all of the liquid.

Rinsing the cup under the faucet, Snape gasped, "That was disgustingly stale, and yet I do believe I feel better."

Turning around, he spoke to the small black bird that was standing on his table. "I must go to the market, but I cannot go the way I am." Pausing with thought, he looked toward the stairs, and said through gritted teeth, "Let us see if my _dear_ _father_ left any robes behind, shall we? It will be the only useful thing he ever did for me."

To his advantage, the only garments hanging in any of the closets were two changes of clothes and one pair of tattered work boots. He removed the items and cast the Scourgify spell until he deemed them worthy for wear. Leaving the old crusty boots sitting in the closet, he decided that the ones he was wearing would be acceptable after a good cleaning. Crossing the hall to what had been his bedroom during his youth, he was stopped by heavy boards the old man had haphazardly nailed across the entry, apparently symbolic of the man ridding his life of his son.

Turning around, he went back into what had been his parents' bedroom and Scourgified the room until he felt safe enough to place the garments on the bed. Peeling off his long, black coat, he realized he had not been able to bathe for three days, and he was determined to do so before changing into clean clothes.

After casting a few cleansing spells, the lavatory was sanitary enough to suit his preference, and he turned on the shower. The pipes underneath the chipped ceramic tile howled and moaned when the murky water flowed through them after being stagnate for many, many years. He disrobed, slowly and painfully pulling off each layer of his soiled, shredded robes as the spray in the shower began to run clear. Casting a warming spell on the water, he waited until the small room fogged with steam before stepping into the steady, welcome stream.

Luckily there was an aged, cracked bar of yellow soap lying shriveled on the ledge inside the shower stall, and he lathered from head to toe, scrubbing his skin until it became red. Placing both of his hands flat against the tile wall on either side of the nozzle, he rested his forehead on the cold surface, and allowed the force of the water to rinse away the grime and dirt. He watched the mixture of blood, grit, and death swirl around the drain before vanishing downward through the dark opening. His warming spell expired and a sudden ice cold torrent of water took away his breath, but the scenes and faces of murdered, horrified students slowed his reflexes, and he turned his body around, accepting the frigid current as torturous penance for his failures.

His skin was like ice when he finally turned off the water, and he was trembling when he reached for the towel. After drying himself, he tied the threadbare towel around his waist, and approached the sink next to the toilet. He ran his long, pale fingers across the mirror, wiping away three streaks of steam, and he resentfully stared into the dark, cavernous eyes of the scarred and battered wizard looking back at him.

"_You_ should be dead," he growled at his reflection.

His eighteen year mission had been fulfilled and he had nothing to show for it except his freedom from the Dark Lord. He was angered at all the wasted years he had spent bowing and scraping to a leader who had done nothing but torture and humiliate him worse than James Potter and his followers ever had. The dark haired wizard's nostrils flared with resentment and loathing of the decisions he had made in his youth. He blamed himself for the wasted lives and wasted years, and he now felt lost not knowing what his future held. He no longer had a role to play. No longer was he a Death Eater, a spy for the Order, or…a _teacher_.

Realizing he was counting on his fingers, he remembered Miss Granger doing the same thing one evening he had returned from having been tortured by the Dark Lord. Tracing the faint pink scar on his left shoulder that she had healed, he recalled having been entranced by her touch. She had been so kind, so gentle, and so…"Beautiful," he said aloud.

_No!_ He thought. S_he is too young for you!_ Glaring at his reflection, he found himself repulsive and unworthy of such a perfect witch, but he could not stop thoughts of her from surfacing in his mind. The bitter wizard fixed his gaze somewhere beyond his reflection and he relived those precious moments when _she_ had whispered the magic words, _I love you _on his ear. Never before had those words been directed to him, nor had he ever desired to hear them, but he secretly wanted to hear them again, and hers was the only voice that could speak them.

"Ridiculous, foolish old wizard!" He snapped.

Shaking off the notion, he splashed his face with cold water, and dressed himself in his father's old jeans and a black and green flannel shirt. The trousers were loose in the waist, but he was able to keep them up with his belt. The shirt sleeves were too short, and he rolled them up, noticing the Dark Mark had begun to fade from his skin. Refreshed and clean, he felt much better, and he took the money from the canister in the kitchen, preparing his mind to begin his quest for survival in his new life.

The market was just around the corner, and he recalled a memory of having shopped there with his parents as a boy. It was the only seemingly fond memory he had of them, and he tried to block it out, but a recollection of going there with just his father played in his mind instead. The man had playfully taught him how pick a perfect tomato by smell alone. He had simply thought his father was trying to teach him something useful, but he had no idea at the time that it had been a notion the old man had made up for no purpose other than to humiliate him. His father had laughed, handing him tomato after tomato while berating him for being too stupid to tell the difference between them.

Snape followed his older scarred and pale hand as he reached forward to select a plump, red tomato, and he closed his eyes, holding the fruit to his nose. Hoping he was going to pick the right one, his father's loathing scowl was all he could see in his mind, and he quickly returned the tomato to its original spot. Instead, he chose another one and dropped it into his basket without giving it a second glance. He was glad the man was dead and gone.

Turning the knob to enter Spinner's End, he stepped through the door, and looked in the mirror over the hearth. What did he feel if it wasn't anger or resentment? Exonerated? Absolved? Relieved? Liberated? Perhaps all of the above, but most of all, he felt lost, and with no direction. He had no job, no means of livelihood, and no one to protect, but he laughed out loud with euphoric feelings of liberation from a life of secrets and hate.

The little bird flew from the kitchen and landed on his shoulder, chirping like it was laughing with him, and he was amused by the soot colored animal because it was as black as his own hair.

"We look exactly like two cauldrons in a Potions lab," he mused, considering their image in the mirror, "You need a name, my friend."

Moving into the kitchen, he placed the bags on the counter, and put the bird on the kitchen table. Taking the fresh loaf of sweet bread from his bounty, he broke off an end piece, and crumbled a pile of it in front of his guest, stuffing the rest of it into his mouth. He chewed as he watched the famished animal peck at the spongy white specks dotting the splintery surface.

"I believe I will call you Jane," he mused.

The tiny creature hopped around and flew to Snape's shoulder, obviously satisfied with the Potions Master's choice.

Lifting one side of his mouth into a half smile, Snape sneered, "I suppose you would like for me to make tea."

The rest of his first day of freedom was spent casting spells to clean and repair the house, and by nightfall the injuries from the previous evening became evident once again. He searched his cloak for another phial of pain potion, but he had depleted his supply over the course of the day, and he cursed himself for not keeping up with his inventory. Aggressively shoving his hand deep into his outer cloak pocket with one last search, his fingers grazed a soft wad of fabric, and he pulled, shaking it open as it slid out.

His breathing hitched when he saw the Gryffindor crest staring back at him, and a part of him felt empty, as if he had suddenly lost his true home, yet he found it in the same moment. Overwhelmed with longing, he gripped the cloak, and brought it to his nose, inhaling the sweet hint of lavender her fragrance had left behind in its threads. Tears of regret burned in the corners of his eyes, and he covered his face with the black fabric, smoothing it between his chest and his hand like he was comforting another human being. Ignoring the intensifying sting of Nagini's bite, he carefully folded Hermione's robe, and gripped it to his chest on his way to place it in his bedroom. He painstakingly hid the black garment deep in the back of the closet where he hoped it would become lost in the shadows of the corner.

Hermione opened her eyes to see the passing fluorescent lights overhead as she was being wheeled on a gurney down a long corridor. She heard the rattling of the wheels and the murmur of faceless voices surrounding her, moving her to an unknown destination. It was an effort for her to hold her eyes open and she was disoriented, but was alert enough to know that she was no longer in the magic world, and she longed for her beach. She tried to speak, but her words were mistaken for a scream and she felt a sharp point painfully pierce her arm, sending her into a dark, dreamless sleep.

"You can't give her any more of that stuff today or you will surely kill her!" One of the male voices rasped.

"Our orders were to keep her quiet. Do you have a better idea?" The other man answered. "This will shut her up until we get there and then she'll be _his_ problem."

"And that won't come too soon for me," whispered the gruff voice of the first man, just before slamming the door of the car.

Hours later, Hermione awoke on the damp floor of a small room of what she thought to be a larger warehouse. Her neck was stiff from having slept on the cold, hard concrete floor. Opening her eyes, she focused on a large crate with the word _fragile_ stamped on it in bold, black letters. She tried to recall how she got there, but she was overcome with sadness and plummeted to the bottom of a sickening gut of grief knowing that her friends would no longer be there to help her. She did not have the energy to cry. Instead, her face became still, and the only thing she could see in her mind was the dancing waves of the ocean, and the fatherly old man who offered her a s'more on a pristine white beach. She knew him. He was home to her, and she longed for the orderly place he kept safe and enlightened with knowledge and respect.

"_Dumbledore", _she whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Surprise Visit

Night came early to Spinner's End due to the thick dark clouds that lingered above, screening the earth from the brightness of the sun, and thunder rumbled low in the distance. Swallowing hard, Snape knew he had to return to Hogwarts in order to replenish his supply of potions if he had any hope of recovering completely. The dread of it took him over, but he whisked around, fastened his cloak, and exited the house. Years of torture under the Dark Lord had given him all the practice he needed to ignore the pain he now felt, but he refused to go through it without the help of one of his concoctions.

Braving the first sheets of hard, pouring rain outside, he Apparated to the thickest part of the Forbidden Forest that led to the castle gate, and he immediately cast a silent cloaking spell on himself. He was relieved that he had landed in a place with no rain, but he felt the frigid chill of the cool night air of Scotland whipping through his wet robes. Whispering a drying spell, his quiet voice interrupted the profuse silence of the woods surrounding him. He was unnerved by the absence of the normal hums and songs of nocturnal animals engaging in their usual springtime rituals.

The pungent odor of soured earth penetrated his nostrils, and he covered his mouth and his nose with part of his cloak. Quickly moving along the one lane ruts in the road, the fallow earth crunched beneath his feet, echoing in his aching head. Approaching the front gate, he looked through the clearing, hoping to see the welcome flickering lights of the castle, but there was only the silhouette of a massive lifeless building outlined in the night sky. Pulling open the heavy, iron gate, an overwhelming feeling of sadness and loss hit the back of his throat, and he took a moment to rest his forehead on the cold bars, fighting the growing nausea of reality hitting his stomach. Pushing forward, the stench of rot and decay became stronger the closer he got to the front lawn, but the bodies had already been removed by the Ministry. Only the blood stains of slaughtered innocence and the deafening silence of nothingness remained on that night, making him feel like he was the last wizard left in the world.

The Great Door was standing open when he approached, and inside the castle was complete darkness, dense with the mists of lost souls and settling fine dusts of mortar from the fresh wounds of war. The faint whispers of deceased former students, entering their tenure as first year ghosts, echoed in the distant corridors, and he quickened his pace. Feeling his way through the castle without light, he knew his route from having taken it since his first day there as a student, and he was careful to not trip over any ruins along the way. Once in the windowless circular stairs that wound downward to the dungeons, he lit his borrowed wand with a whispered 'Lumos', and easily found the door to his private chambers. He had not moved many of his things to the East Tower during his time as Headmaster because he had not planned to be there long. A smug grin crawled across his face when he saw his strong wards protecting his haven had not been broken.

His voice echoed in the hallway when he mumbled the password to the door, "Know-it-all".

Once inside, he paused, momentarily enjoying the familiar comfort of his rooms, and he sat in the chair behind his massive desk, exhaling as he looked around at his surroundings. Everything he saw held a memory of his life at Hogwarts and he did not want to leave it. Blocking the memories of lost students whose unmarked essays lay scattered on his desk, he shook their faces from his mind as he spelled open the wards he had placed on his desk.

He decided that while he was there, he would gather all of the things he wanted to take with him and shrink them so he could fit them all into his pocket. Knowing he had to work quickly, he rifled through his desk drawers and removed several important parchments from the side drawer. Slamming it shut, he stuffed the documents into his pocket, and opened the top drawer to remove his best quills. Blindly feeling inside for his things, his finger grazed something soft and foreign, but he shoved the quills into his pocket, and slammed the drawer shut.

Before leaving his chair, he looked back at the handle and slowly pulled it open. Reaching inside with his long fingers, he gently removed a neatly folded white linen handkerchief with the initials HJG embroidered on the corner in pink thread. His breathing hitched, and his mind came to a sudden halt when he recalled how it came to be in his possession. It had been on the night he had returned from a torture session with the Dark Lord. She had been at his door when he returned and he had been in crippling pain. That night all he had seen her as a brave, resilient, and radiant young witch. He had noticed how her amber eyes burned with youth, intellect, and confidence as she skillfully tended to his wounds. It was the first time he remembered admiring her and he had found her to be fiercely loyal and trustworthy at a time when he needed it most. Something about her had been different that night, or perhaps it was when he was most vulnerable that he allowed himself to look at her and see the breathtaking woman she had become.

The memory made him blush and he tried to convince himself that she had been reveling in seeing him in so much pain. She had been useful on a few other occasions, but on that particular night, he could not deny that she had acted solely out of genuine concern for him. Looking back, he remembered her gentle touch when she tended to his wounds and the determination she showed in proving herself trustworthy. _Damn Gryffindor_, he thought. He had so wanted to touch her cheek and thank her, but at the time he knew it would have been inappropriate. His sense of duty as a teacher, as well as a double agent kept him from feeling anything but animosity for anyone. However, she had been the exception. He focused on her beautiful eyes in his memory and they turned into the sad eyes of the young woman crying for him in the Shrieking Shack.

"Enough woolgathering!" He hissed, forcing the memory from his mind. He stood abruptly, shoving his chair away from him so hard that it feel over backward, and he shrank the desk and put it in his pocket.

He glanced once more at the handkerchief in his hand before violently stashing it in the bottom of his cloak pocket. He forced all thoughts of her from his mind and scanned the items in the room in order to decide what to shrink next. Raising what he knew to be her wand, he stood perfectly still, and rolled his eyes at the irony. "I will escape you, Miss Granger!" He commanded, speaking directly to the wand.

Within minutes, he shrank his vast bookcases with all the books still in them, as well as personal items and potions from his lav. His robes, all black, were miniaturized and stored in his pocket. Next, he moved into the Potions Lab and shrank every cauldron and ingredient he saw, including those in the storage closet. Pocketing each item as he went along, he came to the chair he had sat in the night Miss Granger had healed his wounds, and he shrank it, cussing under his breath while he reached down to pick it up.

The pain in his neck had begun to move down his body and he grimaced under its grasp. He quickly drank a Pepper Up potion, but knew he still wouldn't have the strength to walk back to the front gate, so he Disapparated from the spot where he stood, knowing that all the charms and enchantments were still broken that prevented Apparation. It would take years before the wards, enchantments, and charms to be repaired.

When he stopped spinning, he saw his reflection in the mirror hanging over the fireplace in his house on Spinner's End. He was taken off guard by the reflection of Minerva McGonagall sitting nervously in a chair behind him. He spun around to see her perched next to a cozy fire she had summoned in the fireplace after Flooing in uninvited.

Exhaling when he saw her, Snape warded the door behind him and removed his heavy cloak, keeping his back to the old witch as long as possible while he hung it on the rack. Before turning around, he closed his eyes, and mustered his patience.

He asked non-emotionally, "Do you make it a habit of breaking into the houses of dead Potions Masters or were you hoping to claim this property as a means of paying for the rebuild of our former school?"

Wringing her hands in front of her, she rose from her seat and took a few quick steps in his direction, but stopped before reaching him. "Severus, I am glad to see that having a near death experience has not changed you one bit. I am sorry about letting myself in, but I had to see for myself that you are alive."

He watched her ancient, wrinkled face as it twisted into a smile of relief, and her piercing blue eyes softened when she saw him. For a moment, he thought she was going to hug him, but he crossed the room to escape that possibility.

"I find it hard to believe, Minerva, that you would go to such lengths to simply see if I was…_alright_. What is the reason for your intrusion? I am, after all, the wizard who murdered Albus Dumbledore."  
>She interrupted his sentence. "Severus, I viewed the memories you gave Potter and I know that it was what Albus wanted you to do. I have not always understood his reasoning on things, but…I will be able to forgive you." Clutching her handkerchief, she twisted it in her hands, "There is an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you. I need your help..."<p>

Interrupting her, his voice raised to a firm tone, "There is nothing left for me to help you with. I have paid my debt and I have done all that I am willing to do for the Order. My life no longer belongs to Dumbledore or you or any other entity. I am once again my own man. We won the war, now go and leave me in peace!"

She ignored his request when she continued, "We have accounted for everyone except Hermione Granger. Potter and Weasley insist that she saved your life in the Shrieking Shack and I hoped you had escaped…together."

Snape eyed the old woman closely. _Together,_ he thought, and he was suddenly embarrassed that she may have been alerted to his fondness of the young witch. He listened to her words, careful to not appear too interested. "I have no idea where she is."

"We cannot find her and I have reason to believe she is in trouble. Albus felt her aura just as the sun rose after the final battle. He has spoken with her in her subconscious and she has broken the law. The Ministry believes she tried to…extinguish her light."

Snape swallowed hard and asked, "She attempted to…? I do not understand how such a bright young witch would do such a foolish thing. When I last saw her in the Shrieking Shack she was…" He stopped talking and checked his tone to a more firm one. "If this is true, she is exactly where she deserves to be!"

McGonagall approached him and spoke with silent authority. "I know that you tasted her tears when she administered the antivenin. She kissed you, Severus! Through her actions, a small part of her became a part of you and there is a chance your skills as an accomplished Legilimens could help locate her!"

Opening the door, he snapped, "Are you quite finished? I am very tired. It was only twenty-four hours ago that I almost died from a snake bite and I would appreciate some rest."

"I cannot imagine why you would not want to help the brightest witch you have ever had the pleasure of teaching! You can't possibly tell me you don't care about her in the least! The Ministry is adamant about finding her…"  
>"Fuck the Ministry!" He barked, "Good night, Minerva!"<p>

The old witch spun around and quickly exited to the front porch, startled by the thundering slam of the door behind her.

Leaning against the wall inside, Snape found himself out of breath from pain, exhaustion, and embarrassment. Angry that Potter and Weasley had obviously reported every single detail of his apparent death to everyone who would listen, he was infinitely glad to be rid of McGonagall. Warding the door, he was unexpectedly overcome by all of the human emotions one could feel at once. He wanted to laugh and cry, but at the same time he wanted to punch a wall.

Before thinking better of it, Snape whispered aloud on a relieved exhale, "She is alive!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Worthy Innocence

Minerva McGonagall returned to Hogwarts Castle and sat on the Headmaster's chair in the East Tower for the first time since the war ended. She rested her head on her fragile fist as the sun rose, spotlighting the collateral damage of broken chairs, broken glass, and debris from the Final Battle.Her heart was heavy and she was too tired to cry, having stayed awake all evening to think on a way to find Hermione, as well as rebuilding the castle. She had been certain that Professor Snape's Legilimens skills would have been an asset in helping to locate the young witch, but she could not blame him for wanting to have no part of it. He had finally been set free from a life she knew had been unfair to the wizard, turning him into a misanthrope. She felt partially to blame for all his misery, so she decided to tell no one living that he was still alive.

The house elves began to sweep and clean, hurrying to remove from her presence the reminders of smoldered hopes and dreams of lost lives. She hardly noticed their work, but she was summoned from her thoughts by the noisy return of Albus Dumbledore to his portrait.

In a hurry to report to Minerva, he knocked over the vase that rested on the side table next to his chair inside his frame, but he steadied it before it fell. Out of breath, he gasped, "I'm sorry for startling you Minerva, but I am exhausted."

Giving him a scolding look, her lips tightened and she retorted, "Merlin's beard, Albus! You're dead! How on _earth _could you _possibly_ be exhausted?"

"That was a long trip, Minerva! Going inside someone's head when you don't know where they are takes a lot out of a dead person! I came back as soon as I could. Did you have any luck with Severus?"

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head no. "Can you blame him after all he's been through?"

Exhaling, Albus plopped down onto his chair and looked at the floor. "No," he said calmly. "But I was certain he would want to help Miss Granger. I always thought he had a soft spot for her."

Walking to the window, she peered out over the ruined grounds, and sighed, "Don't be silly, Albus. He doesn't have a soft spot for anyone except Lily Potter. We must leave him be. He has paid his debt and now he has every right to live his life privately and do what he wishes with what's left of it. Can you believe he is angry because she saved his life?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard while he thought aloud. "I can believe that. He will always be angry and for good reason." Sadly shaking his head, he said, "I do not wish to make the same mistakes with Miss Granger that I made with Severus. She believes her two best friends are dead. We need to tell her the truth. It is wrong to keep that from her!"

"I know that, Albus! But you know the law! You wrote the bloody thing, after all! Moving back to her chair, she plopped down and covered her eyes with her hands.

Phineas Nigellus Black suddenly entered his portrait, out of breath. "The girl has been taken! An acquaintance of mine just reported to me that she had been moved from her paradise to St. Mungo's by Draco Malfoy. No one knows of his whereabouts at the present time. It was reported…" He was interrupted and turned his head as if listening to someone speaking to him from somewhere unseen in his portrait. "It seems she has now been taken from St. Mungo's. Her destination is unclear, but she was moved by two apparent orderlies of the establishment."

"Who could have taken her and why?" McGonagall gasped as she held her hand to her chest.

Dumbledore stood in his portrait. "At this time I have no idea, Minerva. All of the Death Eaters have been captured. Lucius is the only one remaining, but he did leave Tom's side in the end. I do not believe he poses a threat at this time. I shall go to the Ministry and peruse Miss Granger's file. Perhaps they have something to do with this." Moving to leave, he felt dizziness overtake him and he sat back down to allow the feeling to subside.

"What is it, Albus? What just happened to you?" Minerva gasped, taking steps toward his portrait.

"Miss Granger just spoke my name. Her pain weakens me, I'm afraid." The old wizard covered his face with his hands, and wept openly. "She is suffering, Minerva! I can feel her… aching with grief and …it is unlike anything I have ever…it is unbearable." Wiping his eyes on his sleeves, his expression became stern and he left the frame to accomplish his mission.

Hundreds of miles away, Hermione's vision was blurred as she drifted in and out of sleep, but she could still feel the cold concrete underneath her fragile body. She touched the ground with her hands, and she found a frayed, loosely woven sack with her fingertips. Ignoring the thought of what may be crawling on it, she pulled it over her for warmth, recognizing the smell of old burlap. She tried to turn onto her side, but she was restrained by the strap of a soft bag that was magically wound around her like a purse. Wriggling her wrist free from the strap, she pulled, and the bag slid forward, pulling her hair as it moved. Exhausted from raising her head enough to retrieve the bag, she began to feel nauseous, and she vomited a vile, bitter substance that could have been nothing more than stomach acid since she had received no nourishment in quite some time.

Lowering her head onto her arm, she reached into the bag and pulled out a lump of tinfoil and brought it to her face to try and see what it was. The sweet smell of chocolate caused her true hunger to come forth, and she pulled the foil from the treat, and shoved the entire S'more into her mouth. As she chewed, she recalled the meeting with Dumbledore on the beach. The chocolate soothed her aching body as though she had taken an elixir, and it gave her an intangible feeling of familiar comfort, like she was home again.

A foggy memory of a Quiddich Game began to play out in her mind. She believed Professor Snape was bewitching Harry's broom, causing him to almost fall to the ground. The next thing she remembered was setting fire to Professor Snape's robes in order to stop his concentration on Harry. It had worked.

Her memory was interrupted by the sound of heavy metal doors sliding open across the room. She swallowed the last of the treat and pretended to be sleeping, using her knapsack as a pillow.

A familiar, hateful voice asked "Is she alive as I requested?"

"Yes. Now pay us what we agreed so that we may be on our way," answered the voice she recognized as one of her abductors.

Hermione heard the jingling of coins being dropped into a heaping bag, followed by the echoes of retreating footsteps. She assumed the two men who had brought her to that place were leaving, and she was left alone with one person. The soles of his shoes scuffed along the room toward her, causing a hissing echo in the large room. He stopped next to her face. She felt the grimy, wet edge of his foot cruelly nudge her forehead and she began to tremble with sickening fear.

"Are you alive, Mudblood? My father paid a pretty penny to bring you here. I hope you're grateful. Filthy Mudbloods become valuable when they shun their magic." Draco laughed an unnatural cackle.

The memory of walking across the grounds of Hogwarts toward the front gate began to cycle in Hermione's mind. She fell on top of the lifeless bodies of her two best friends. She allowed the memory to fast forward until she reached the beach. She had walked naked into the ocean and she remembered seeing the silhouette of Draco Malfoy standing on the shore, calling to her with a panicked, begging voice. He motioned for her to come back to the beach. She remembered being confused by his concern, but she had been pulled under the surface by an unseen force, and the water around her turned into thick, coagulated blood. Somehow she knew he had not been the one to cause her potential harm at the time.

She swallowed the bile collecting in her throat and opened her eyes to see her bruised reflection in Draco's shiny patent leather shoe. She tried to scream out, but could only rasp.

"Shut up, Mudblood!" He commanded. "It would have been brilliant for you to drown in the blood of all those you helped to kill. You have no friends left and you'll never have magic again. The only thing pure about you, Mudblood, is your innocence. Your virginal blood is the only part of you that's of any use. My father has some…interesting plans for you." He laughed a high-pitched, evil cackle with a self congratulatory edge.

Draco squatted beside her, snarling with seething hatred for her, and he rasped, spittle forming in the corners of his mouth, "You're all alone now. You ran away and couldn't save them. You're a worthless coward."

Hermione batted away the heavy tears from her eyelashes, and she saw the platinum blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, but something about him was different. Her eyes became clear and she looked at his face with a better focus. His gray eyes were covered with a hazy film that only the Imperious Curse could bring and she became crippled with fear. He stood, towering over her, and she stifled the urge to move or speak, hoping to not provoke him in any way. However, the last thing she saw was the toe of his shoe coming toward her temple, and her mind retreated to the beach with the roaring waves, just before his foot connected with her head.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Alright, boys and girls, this chapter is rated M. If you don't like 'dirty scenes', don't watch. Otherwise, happy reading! Just a reminder: These characters come from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling and not mine. I make no money from playing with her brain children. All mistakes are my own.

Chapter 12

What Dreams May Come

Snape needed sleep and he held tight to the banister as he made his way upstairs to bed. Miss Granger's face haunted his thoughts and he did his best to put her out of his mind by blaming his uncontrollable emotions on his physical state of exhaustion. The last of his energy was spent on changing into his sleeping clothes and drinking pain potions.

Linking his fingers together underneath his head, he lay flat on his back, and took a long, deep breath, exhaling through his generous nose. He appreciated the small comfort of the antique mattress after having spent a significant amount of the last two days of his life on hard wood floors. His eyes closed before his next intake of air and he was fast asleep. A few hours later, deep in REM sleep, he was propelled into a vivid dream.

_A nameless white face rose from the mist of an open grave wearing the uniform of a Hogwarts student. Her leggings were ripped open, framing deep gashes in her bleeding flesh. As she crawled from the sour earth, her shape became familiar, but when he recognized the untamed hair of Hermione Granger, he felt sick. A watery white glaze covered her once thriving amber eyes, and she sluggishly clambered toward him on her hands and knees, leaving behind strips of flesh as she slid each leg over broken rocks and hardened soil. He became frozen in place and he could not move while she approached him. Her hand reached out to him and he saw her black fingernails clawing at his clothing when she tried to pull herself from the ground. Her face was twisted into an expression of confusion, pleading with him for something. He could not speak nor move and he tried to run, but he was trapped inside his body, now frozen with fear. He tasted the vile tang of rigamortis when she opened her mouth to speak._

_ Crying in a pitiful, childish voice, she spoke, unnaturally forcing the air from her lungs as she rasped, "Whyyyy?" _

Screaming out an intangible moan, Snape flailed his arms, and kicked the bed covers onto the floor. He called from his sleep, "No! No! No!" And he woke to the sound of the panicked echo of his own voice.

Sitting upright, he hung his feet over the side of the bed and gripped the mattress on either side of him. Out of breath and trembling, he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and rocked his upper body while he struggled to regain his composure. He regretted being alive when so many had died, but he was devastated at the thought of a deceased Miss Granger. He replaced the dead, lifeless face in his dream with the vibrant, beautiful face of the witch who said she loved him.

Filling a glass with cold water from the sink in the bathroom, he watched his reflection in the mirror as he guzzled the calming liquid. Clinking the glass upside down on the white porcelain basin, he rubbed his eyes and glared into his image.

Gravely, he spoke to his reflection, "_You_ should be dead."

Slipping back into bed, he curled up on his side, facing away from the bright street light sneaking in through the thin window covering. Hugging the pillow to his head, he grabbed the other one and clenched it to his chest. Exhaling a long sigh, sleep once again came on peacefully. Soon after, his breathing became deep and regular, and he began to experience another realistic dream.

_He lay paralyzed, alone on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Her hair tickled his face when she rested her head on his shoulder, drenching his clothing with her tears. Her long, curly mane veiled her fingertips as she seductively traced his lips and mourned her Potions Master. Her breath was hot when she whispered sweet words upon the sensitive skin surrounding his ear, and she landed soft kisses down the nape of his neck. From nowhere, he felt a soft, plush rug cushioning his backside, and a fluffy, overstuffed pillow cradling his head. _

_ Disheveled locks of her long tresses framed her porcelain face and her golden-brown eyes were aflame with longing and sadness as she looked upon him. He felt her gaze, and his skin smoldered and tingled along the trail her eyes were traveling over his body. Her timid lips, swollen from crying, brushed across the dry, cracked surface of his mouth, quenching and quickening an insatiable need deep inside of him. _

_He was suddenly freed from the prison of his limbs and he became light and mobile. Reaching around her with his left arm, he snaked his hand through the thickness of her tangled curls and pulled her close to him, claiming her mouth in a deep, open kiss. She liquefied into his embrace and welcomed his dominance with a sigh. Her breasts were flush against him as he rolled on top of her, still kissing her with the fierce power of a charged wizard. Catching his breath, he placed his hands on the floor on either side of her head and raised his upper body to look at her. He felt the heat of her mons through their clothing and he felt dirty due to his male reaction to her. However, he abandoned his guilt when a crooked, devilish smile broke across her face and her tongue slowly licked her upper lip. She moved her knees apart, inviting the full weight of his body on hers, and his hips settled into the warmth of the inseams of her jeans. His nether region sprang to life with an overwhelming craving for what she alone could provide. _

_ Hesitating, he watched her through half-lidded eyes, wrestling with the voice in his head telling him to stop. She reached up and tenderly caressed the skin of his face with her slender fingers, lightly tugging, beckoning him to take her at his will. Her hips moved underneath him, grinding his loins against her pelvis. His conscience abandoned his mind and he ascended, laying claim to her willing submission._

"_Missss Grangerrr,"_ he growled into the pillow under his face while he made love to the one clutched in his arms.

He awoke just in time for his own orgasm to spill inside his pajamas. Infuriated at his own mind for having such an explicit dream about that particular young woman, he felt dirty and guilty.

"Dammit!" he gasped.

Throwing back the covers, he sprang from the bed and turned on the shower. Stepping into the spray without removing his soiled garments, he immediately felt the bitter sting of the frigid water. While the physical evidence of his dream had washed down the drain, he could not remove the residue of guilt that oiled his conscience. He would not listen to his mind's justifications of the dream, and he stayed in the arctic stream until he felt his manhood shrivel down to an insignificant size.

"That will teach you!" He scolded in the direction of the offending appendage.

After casting a drying spell on himself, he walked to the window of his bedroom, and pushed back the thin, loosely woven curtain. The bright streetlight had sensed the dawn and clicked off just as he looked at it. He sighed and his thoughts drifted to the brilliant witch who had violated his dreams. She had awakened feelings within him that he had learned to stifle throughout his life, simply because he had wanted a life away from what he knew _family life_ to be like.

His choices eventually led to become a Death Eater, causing him to lose the only true friend he ever had, and he knew he had been the one to destroy his bond with Lily. She had died protecting the son that should have been his instead of Potter's, and he abandoned the need and the idea of love of any kind. He had loved Lily, but she went to her grave not knowing his true feelings for her. He inhaled a deep, quick breath and cursed himself for giving those memories to The Boy Who Lived, and had lived again.

He could not understand the reasoning behind Miss Granger's apparent feelings for him. He was unworthy of such a witch and he refused to accept the advances of such a chit of a girl. No. She was no girl. Not anymore.

Pounding the wall with his right fist, he shouted, "Damn her! Damn her for keeping me alive!"

Speaking to his reflection in the window, he mumbled, "I _am_ dead."

Feeling lost and without a purpose or plan for his continuing existence, he leaned his forehead on the window. He watched daybreak unfold in front of him through the disappearing circles of fog his breath was painting on the cool glass pane. Warmth from the sun provided heat on the window, bathing his pale face in the glow of a newly born day. Closing his eyes, he took in a slow, calming breath through his nose, unable to erase the dreams from his mind.

Touching his face with his fingers, he remembered the softness of her lips when she kissed him the night she told him she loved him. He also remembered the terror of having been paralyzed, only able to listen for her voice on the outside as she bravely fought for the light in the raging battle. He had hung on the edge of every scream, hoping it would not be her last. His sense of duty to her grew and he could no longer ignore the fondness he felt for the young witch. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe with him for the rest of his natural life. She had been the one to help him every single time he needed it and he owed it to her to find her and help her. He felt a foreign shiver snake up his spine when he admitted the truth to his heart that he wanted her for himself.

Exhaling with exasperation, he opened his eyes, and hissed at his reflection, "Ridiculous! It was just a dream, you silly old wizard! She does not want you!"

He felt shame for what his sleeping mind had wanted from the young witch, but she had become a woman of age while he had not been paying attention. After all, she had irritated him beyond his limits when she had known the answer to every question, sometimes posing questions of her own for which he had not had a ready answer. Instead of admitting to her that he needed to look it up, he had insulted her and sent her away. She had always performed better than any other student in the school and her thirst for knowledge had been insatiable, rivaling his own. She was intelligent, beautiful, likeable, and capable of love. She was a favorite of Albus Dumbledore, and she was fortunate enough to have friends who would defend her to the death. He envied and resented her for it, and he wanted to hate her for saving him from the fate that should have been his death.

"Insufferable know it all," he grumbled through gritted teeth.

Still, as he had hurled the insults over the years, he knew she had defended him to others on many occasions. She had seen his weaknesses, but had kept them private, even volunteering to help him after he had coincidentally been through a night of Cruciatus under the wand of The Dark Lord. Had she seen his pain? Had she seen through the Glam he had used to cover his gashes and contusions? Guilt took him over when he remembered all the times he had berated her, relentless with his abusive tone, but she had consistently shown him the kindness and respect worthy of not only a teacher, but above all else, a human being.

"Foolish Wizard," he rasped, tears welling in his eyes. "She's too young for you. Leave her be. Let her live her life. Let her find a young wizard who will make her happy and give her a long life full of extraordinary moments."

He wanted to leave Severus Snape dead on the rotting floor of the Shrieking Shack and to live the rest of his life in solitude, free of the inconveniences and regrets of the life he had been living or never had. He was now a free agent, able to do as he pleased without answering to anyone, and he preferred it that way.

"Free," he spoke, confirming the thought as truth.

He knew that if he looked for her, he would probably find her, and then what? Banishing her from his mind, he turned away from the window, and went downstairs to have breakfast. Hopefully he could figure out a way to put the unwanted pieces of his pathetic life back together.

Standing in the middle of the sitting room, he prepared to unpack his things from the castle. The sun illuminated the room, filling in all the dark, dusty cracks that he had missed while cleaning. The room was the largest in the small house, and he removed the shrunken packages from his cloak, hoping to have enough space for all of his massive bookcases.

Setting the first of them on the floor flush against the wall, he threw magic from his borrowed wand and watched as a monstrous shelf sprang from the box and made its new home next to the fireplace. He stopped and marveled at the piece, stuffed with books and loose parchments. He felt a pang of melancholy at how foreign it seemed in the small space. It had been a permanent fixture that had lined the walls of his rooms at Hogwarts for so many years and the thought of moving it had never occurred to him.

Quickly turning away from the monstrous bookcase, he sat another small box next to it, and spelled it to its normal size. The two bookcases together gave him a sense of familiarity that he desperately needed, and his breath hitched when he saw his copy of Shakespeare, seemingly calling to him. He slowly approached the shelf on which it rested, and slid it from its place, knowing the book had not been moved since Miss Granger admired it the night she tended to his wounds.

The heavy, leather bound book fell open to the middle pages, magically exposing the last poem read. Having had his blood on her hands from helping him on that night long ago, she had left faint fingerprints that had since faded from crimson to brown. He gently traced the evidence of her perusal with his fingertips, and he read aloud the sonnet she had unknowingly marked.

Against my love shall be as I am now,  
>With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn;<br>When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow  
>With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn<br>Hath travelled on to age's steepy night;  
>And all those beauties whereof now he's king<br>Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,  
>Stealing away the treasure of his spring;<br>For such a time do I now fortify  
>Against confounding age's cruel knife,<br>That he shall never cut from memory  
>My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:<br>His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,  
>And they shall live, and he in them still green.<p>

Standing in the quiet of the room, he repeated the last two lines, and slammed the book shut when the icy fingers of longing made their way up his spine and into his unfeeling heart. Shoving the book back into its spot, he allowed his fingers to linger on its spine, thinking only of her auburn eyes and her soft voice on his ear. The need to feel her next to him was overwhelming and the concern for her current situation compelled him to form a plan to find her.

Shoving the book with bloody fingerprints under his arm, he ran upstairs to the closet and pulled her cloak from its hidden place. Allowing the hem to drop, he brought the neckline to his nose and inhaled her lavender fragrance. Suddenly, his life made sense and the thought of finding her became his mission and his sole reason for taking his next breath. Holding the robe and the book to his chest, he checked his pocket to make sure her handkerchief was there, and he gripped her wand in his free hand. He walked to the window, closed his eyes, and focused on her rare smile.

"Legilimens," he softly commanded.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I edited this one in a slight hurry, so I hope I didn't screw anything up! The story should wrap up in one…maybe two more chapters. We'll see. Snape has a memory in this chapter that I decided to leave in rather than leave it on the cutting room floor. Thanks for reading and reviewing and adding me! You guys just make me so very happy! I don't own them, but if I did, I'd have a cement pond and someone to cook for me and clean my house so I could just write ALL THE TIME!

Chapter 13

Sugar

Standing on the sand, Hermione felt the warmth of the steady, tropical breeze blowing wild strands of her hair about her head. A few random spirals whipped across her face and her mouth, but she didn't seem to notice or care. The rumble of the tide did not bring with it the songs of screeching seagulls that were normally harmonious with its rhythm and she instinctively lifted her head to search for them in the sky. The only movement against the darkening clouds was the absurd presence of a tiny black bird, silently flying in frantic circles.

Before she could think more on the out of place creature, she was distracted by a strong, familiar presence surrounding her, seemingly cradling her with unseen hands. Sluggish thought obscured her reflexes and she did not turn to inspect the source, but only because she did not feel threatened by it. In fact, she welcomed the safety the feeling offered, blindly trusting it.

Wrapping her arms around her abdomen as she often did when she felt exposed, her fingers grazed the strap of the charmed knapsack that Dumbledore had given her. Reaching inside, she pulled out the tinfoil sculpture of the castle and she held it up in front of her face for a better view.

The silver sculpture was unscathed and she was happy that it had not been crushed. Smiling and waving at her were faces and hands of familiar people and she looked for Ron and Harry in the crowd. Her attention was drawn to the tall wizard standing guard on top of the miniature castle and she felt the familiar pang of regret when she remembered seeing him die on a creaky plank floor. A new wave of grief overtook her and she cried aloud.

She could not see him, but the sinister stature of Severus Snape stood right next to her, looking at her with an expression of elated confusion. The strong breeze battled his outer cloak, noisily flapping the hem and sleeves in dark waves as it repeatedly surrendered and landed flush against his staunch form. He had connected with her mind just at the moment she returned to the beach and he had not been able to take his eyes away from her.

His first instinct was to reach out to her, take her in his arms, and whisk her away from her pain, but he showed restraint in doing so for fear of causing irreversible damage to her already altered mind. Should he startle her, he was concerned that forced physical contact would break his connection and end the Legilimens session.

The former Professor lost almost all of his self control and could not resist the temptation to reach to touch her. Careful to not make contact with any part of her skin, he fanned out his long, pale fingers, and allowed several strands of her wildly blowing hair to casually slide between them. He stood in awe of the kaleidoscope of colors the disappearing sun cast on her spiral locks. He had never before taken the time to notice the many different hues of browns and blondes running through her hair. The symmetry of her face was simple perfection and he balled his fists to keep himself from touching the back of his hand to her cheek. Her soft, pink lips were slightly parted, giving only a glimpse of her white front teeth, and he thought she was going to speak. For a moment, he hoped she would see him so he could quickly pull her into an embrace and make her world right again, but she simply stared at the shiny sculpture in her hands, trying to look beyond it through her tears.

The pain of her mental torture ran through his body, causing grief to almost cripple him. He trembled when he attempted to shoulder the burden of her sorrow and he pried further into her mind in attempt to find the source of her suffering. He had only ever seen her as strong, inquisitive, and determined, but he saw the image of Potter and Weasley lying in a lifeless heap, and it angered him to see her spirit so needlessly shattered. He wondered how such an exquisite creature as beautiful as she could love so deeply that the loss of it could send her to an emptier place than his friendless, empty world had ever been_. Dumbledore should have informed her of the truth when he spoke to her_, he thought. _Manipulating old bastard._

She reached into the bag and pulled out a lemon drop, but she dropped it, not seeing that it bounced off his boot and onto the sand. Never looking down, she pulled out another one and he watched in awe as her lips parted to welcome the candy to her tongue. He carefully reached down to pick up the discarded yellow ball and he pocketed it, finding it exceptionally odd that he was able to physically touch something while in Legilimens.

Snape's brow furrowed and he concentrated harder to maintain the stream of power and focus with Miss Granger's mind while inside her fantasy world. The wind suddenly picked up, blowing at the speed of a hurricane, and the force of it caused her to drop to her knees. Snape's liquid black eyes locked on to hers and she smiled at him apologetically when the image of Draco Malfoy came charging to the front of her mind. Snape knew that she had realized he was there, but just before he reached for her, he physically felt the sting of Draco's Stupefy spell as it was cast on Miss Granger. The impact knocked him out of Legilimens, causing him to shiver without the warmth of Miss Granger's mind.

Snape opened his eyes to find himself out of breath and holding onto the window frame of his bedroom with both hands to steady his trembling body. Still somewhat weak from his ordeal a few nights prior, he was momentarily disoriented upon his sudden involuntary retreat from her mind. Looking down at the floor, he realized he had dropped Miss Granger's cloak, and when he bent over to pick it up, he saw a few grains of sand fall from his boots. He was perplexed at how it came about that he had brought back hard evidence of travel during Legilimens. It occurred to him that his concentration and determination during the session had been more intense than he had ever attempted, thus making the magic stronger.

Licking his index finger to moisten it, he pressed the digit on his boot to collect some of the sand on his damp fingertip. Standing, he held it up to the light of the sun and examined it to ensure its authenticity. The grains were sparkly and milky white and slightly larger than sand. Touching his finger to his tongue, he expected the gritty taste of sand, but he undeniably identified the flavor of pure grain sugar.

Taking the lemon drop from his pocket, he held it in front of his face for inspection, and he growled, "I am _not_ doing this for _you_, Albus. You have manipulated my life for the last time."

He licked the candy and tossed it into his mouth. The tart flavor caused him to grimace, but the sweet on his tongue began to taste a bit like the salty sea air, and he knew it was absurd to think the inside of her mind could produce scents or tangible grains of sugar with taste. He was certain the flavor had come from the storage facility where it had been kept before it was shipped to Honeydukes because it did not yet have a processed or boxed flavor. In fact, further tasting gave him the notion that the salty taste was fresher than having been in storage and he knew she was being held at a warehouse somewhere close to a port.

Suddenly, the thought of Draco Malfoy's stunning spell infuriated him and he shuddered, shaking away the thought of what unspeakable things may be happening to her body. A quick re-assurance to himself about his excellent sense of smell and taste as a Potions Master gave him renewed hope that he would find her before the worst could happen. Also, years of containing his emotions allowed him to focus his mind on tracking her down. His only comfort was in the knowledge that she had protected her conscious mind by retreating to the refuge of her made-up beach. He hoped she would not remember any of it.

Reaching into his pocket for something on which to collect an untouched sugar sample from his boot, the only thing he found to use was her linen handkerchief. Spreading it on the floor, he became dizzy while bent over when the dissolving lemon drop in his mouth caused a memory to overtake him. Sitting on the floor, his boot spilled the grains onto the fragile cloth, and he leaned back his head on the wall behind him, having no choice but to allow the memory to play out on the backs of his eyelids like a motion picture.

A few seconds into the memory, he realized Dumbledore had laced the lemon drops with memories to help the girl keep in touch with some type of reality, and he resented the old man for continuing to meddle with people's lives in spite of death. However, it was a clever way to help her.

_Closing his eyes, he recalled the evening of Slughorn's party in which Cormac McLaggen had been Miss Granger's escort. He had noticed how the boy had not kept his eyes or hands away from Miss Granger and she had fought him off since their arrival. Until she walked in, he had only wished to return to his rooms and be alone, irritated at the foolishness of being required to attend. She had escaped her date to hide behind a chair to talk to Potter. Snape watched the two whispering and laughing about her hiding place while he looked on, eavesdropping and shadowing them with his commanding stature._

_Finally, he interrupted them to speak to Potter to deliver a message from Dumbledore. Snape saw his reflection in her huge, glassy eyes, and she lifted the corner of her mouth in a half smile, but quickly looked away, not wanting anyone to know what she had done. However, his heart had swelled because her smile, as quick as it was, had been solely for him. She ducked back behind the chair, purposely allowing him privacy to speak to Harry. _

_The memory flashed forward to a later part of that same evening, just after his confrontation with Mr. McLaggen. He had become exasperated with the boy for pawing on Miss Granger and she had given Snape a look that indicated she wished for his intervention with her out of control hormonal escort. He stalked toward the young man and forcefully removed the boy's hand from Miss Granger's backside, crushing it under his grasp as he pulled him across the room. Snape stopped and glared at the terrified boy. Suddenly, Mr. McLaggen lost the contents of his stomach onto Snape's newly polished black boots. _

_He had stepped into the hall to spell them clean, and had just finished when Miss Granger emerged from the party and watched him from behind the shadow of a suit of armor. He had consciously made an effort to close his mouth after it had gaped open upon seeing her. She was dressed in a feminine peach dress that softened every sharp edge of her young, radiant persona, and he had been embarrassed by his own clumsy reaction. She did not appear to have noticed, but she had smiled at him with a sincerity that melted his calloused heart like molten iron that burned a liquid orange._

"_Thank you!" She gasped, peering into the party through a slightly cracked door._

"_I cannot think of any reason for you to thank me, Miss Granger. What are you doing hiding in the corridor?" He asked, inspecting his boot to be sure all of the specks of vomit had been removed_

_She laughingly inspected his boot, "I think you sorted it, sir."_

_He immediately stood rigidly at attention, seemingly agitated that she knew he had been vomited upon by a student._

"_You saved me from Cormac," she said, crossing her arms in front of her. "He has been harassing me all evening!" _

"_I am aware of that, Miss Granger," he spoke in his lowest of baritone. _

_She began to giggle, and it morphed into a belly laugh when she thought of the boy barfing on Snape, and she added between guffaws, "I don't think he will be back here tonight."_

_The smile that crept across his face was involuntary, but it felt good to share a humorous moment with her. He admired her easy laugh and the way her smile changed everything about her when she did it. The sound of her giggle was foreign and rare, almost making it contagious, but he deflected it. He watched her mirth with a smirk, but enjoying it with the stealth of a greedy thief. It had been a welcome reprieve from the unbearable anxiety of knowing what was to come of the Headmaster. _

_The door leading to the party creaked open and Potter stepped into the hallway. Hermione was wiping her eyes and Snape straightened his jacket, jumping back into the character that the Boy Who Lived loved to hate._

_Glaring at Snape, the young wizard asked accusingly, "Am I interrupting something, sir?"_

_Snape returned the glower when he answered, "I hardly see how that is of your concern, Mr. Potter."_

_Harry ignored him and turned to Hermione, "C'mon, Hermione, let's go back inside."_

"_Ok, Harry," she replied, tucking a wispy strand of hair behind her ear. "You go ahead. I'll be right there. I have to ask Professor Snape something first." _

_Before going back inside, Harry gave Snape a look of fuming hatred that boiled with distrust and anger. The older wizard recalled seeing the same look in the eyes of the boy's mother on occasion and he silently bore the pain of it while returning the hateful glare. _

_Exhaling, he was once again in the hall alone with the young witch. "Miss Granger." He spoke softly. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the echo of his voice carrying her name down the long corridor several times. Clearing his throat, he clasped his hands behind his back, and waited for her to ask the question she needed to ask. He silently thought, 'Miss Granger, you look lovely this evening.'_

_A new smile broke across her glowing face and a dreamy look formed in her eyes. "Will you dance with me before the party's over?"_

_He turned his face to look down into the auburn orbs nervously awaiting his answer, and he swallowed hard when he could see nothing but the crevasse that rested between her breasts so brazenly displayed by the low neckline of her dress. "Perhaps that would not be appropriate, Miss Granger," he responded, focusing on the floor, unable to look at her._

"_I understand, Professor." She replied breathlessly, taking a step away from him toward the door. She put her hand on the handle and hesitated. Looking over her shoulder at him, she said, "As always, Professor…Be careful out there."_

The memory charm from the lemon drop wore off and the images left his mind. Opening his eyes, he processed what he had seen. He felt more connected to her than he ever had, and he now began to ache for her. She had saved him from more than death and he felt a duty to her that could not be sated until he found her alive.

"I promise," he said aloud, holding his head in his hands.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments and adds! You made me so very, very happy! I wanted to wait until tomorrow to put this chapter up so I could post it with the 'good stuff', but I just couldn't wait. I edited a lot of gruesome stuff out of this one. I didn't want y'all to think I was a crazed sex fiend, so I toned it down. Not 'Disney' toned down, but just minor blood 'n guts 'n stuff. Oh…and an almost rape. Don't read if that offends you. It's rated M for a reason. Your feedback feeds my muses! Keep it coming! (Disclaimer, I don't own these characters, but the mistakes are mine.)

Sitting on the floor in his bedroom, Snape's legs were stretched out in front of him, and he felt slightly nauseated from the sickening sweet of Dumbledore's lemon drop. He took a long, deep breath through his nose, and exhaled slowly, crunching the last few particles of the candy with his back molars while he carefully recalled every moment of the Legilimens session with Miss Granger. There was something. As soon as she had been hit with the stunning spell, she had been drawn out of her fantasy, and had reflexively brought her hands to her face to shield the oncoming hit. She had been clutching a burlap sack in her fists that had words stamped on it. He thought harder and became strangled on a stray crumb of lemon drop when he remembered the black printed words on the bag.

Coughing the last of the spittle from his windpipe, he said aloud, as if reading, "_Greenock." _Wiping his mouth with his hands, he stood, and looked out the window. "Scotland." He said aloud.

Sluggish as the stunning spell wore off, Hermione opened her eyes and her nostrils burned with dank air as her screams echoed in the large forgotten warehouse. She drunkenly reached toward her scalp in an effort to free her hair from the hand using it as a rope to drag her across the rough, uneven plank floor of the creaky building. Jagged splinters pierced her jeans, jabbing the flesh underneath, and she could only make out shadows in the dimly lit space. Desperately clawing the fragmented floor around her for anything to grasp onto, she found nothing but a bent rusty nail that penetrated the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. Draco Malfoy heaved forward, cruelly wrenching her harder, and she screamed once more when her skin tore free from the eroded nail, leaving a crimson trail along the path.

Draco finally released her hair and grunted with satisfaction when he heard the thud of her head hit the grimy floor. Standing over her, he tied her arms over her head with a rough, frayed rope, and hoisted her onto a bed-like bag of sweet smelling sugar. Her arms felt as though they would pluck away from the cartilage of her shoulder, hurting more with every squeak of the overhead pulley. Her lower half rested on the sugar bag, but her upper torso was suspended just enough that her head could not touch it. She could only allow her head to fall back for relief from the weight of it while he tied her ankles on either side of the bag. Opening her eyes, she could vaguely see her captor through the coagulating blood dripping from a large splinter that had become embedded in her forehead. The syrupy texture slowly trickled down her face into the corner of her mouth and she tasted the metallic infusion of blood and sugar.

Squeezing her eyes shut in an effort to wring the blood from her eyelashes, she heard Draco's labored breathing coming closer to her face. His hot, rancid breath caused her to gag when he whispered on her cheek, "You're not very powerful now, are you, Mudblood?"

She squirmed, trying to move away from his hand when he trailed his fingers across the side of her left breast. His breathing became irregular and she heard the faint clink of his metal belt buckle coming undone in his hands. Although she was in pain and horrified, a part of her felt sad that Draco was acting against his own will. A simple _Finite Incantem _would have broken the Imperious Curse that held him solidly in its grasp, but she could not produce it, and she missed her magic for the first time since she had lost it.

"This won't hurt me a bit," he rasped, licking his lips before kissing her neck.

Certain she would vomit, he was pulled away by someone else, and she heard the unmistakable cold, emotionless voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"I will take over from here," Lucius praised. "This is _my_ prize, after all."

Raising his wand, he pointed it at his son, and lifted the Imperious Curse he had placed on him after finding him in Diagon Alley.

When the curse was lifted, Draco shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stop the dizziness he felt. He licked his lips to moisten them, but there was something sticky sweet smeared across them. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he opened his eyes to see Hermione Granger bound and bleeding atop a giant bag of sugar. Confused as to how she came to be in that particular situation, he saw the blood smeared across his hand, and wiped his mouth hard with his sleeve when he realized it had come from Granger's mouth. His next thought was the realization that he had been responsible for her present condition and he was filled with sudden remorse.

Lucius saw his son recover from the curse and laughed as the younger wizard made all the connections in his brain. "You have done well, Draco."

Draco was speechless and began to tremble with powerful emotions of regret and hatred. His last memory before being Imperioused sprang forward in his mind. He had been drinking at the Leaky Cauldron several hours after he had left Granger at St. Mungo's. His father walked in and took a seat next to him at the bar. Vulnerable in his inebriated state, Draco made the mistake of trusting his father's apologies, and followed him back to Malfoy Manor, certain he could find a way to cure his father's delusional insanity. Lucius had poured Fire Whisky from a priceless crystal decanter and offered the tumbler to Draco. As soon as the sparkling glass touched the young wizard's lips, Lucius maliciously cast the Imperious Curse on his only son, forcing him to carry out his fiendish need for power.

Draco dropped to his knees and began a frantic search through the sea of revolting debris surrounding him for his wand. Lucius paid Draco no mind and turned his attention to the bound, bleeding, and terrified Hermione Granger.

Eying her with lecherous craving, he seductively stroked a lock of her hair, and she screamed with all the intensity of a banshee. She tried to escape her situation by running to her fantasy world, but she could not slip through, and all the bad memories from the night of the Final Battle came rushing through her head at flash forward speed. She remembered stepping over the bodies in the Great Hall, Filch's vacant expression as he carried in the dead student, and tripping over the lifeless bodies of her two best friends. She tried to calm herself by thinking of going to the Burrow for holidays, but her good memory was interrupted by the sickening feeling of the grief they must be feeling over Ron's death. If she lived through her current situation, she would find them and mourn with them. She also thought of having a private memorial service for Professor Snape. She was certain that no one would miss him but her. As sad as she was, she realized in that instant that she had no desire to die; especially at the hands of Lucius Malfoy.

Wishing to be caught in a catatonic state somewhere between reality and her fantasy beach, she longed for her magic to miraculously return, but it did not. Exhaling a defeated breath, she whispered weakly to herself, "Save me, Severus."

Lucius laughed out loud. His deep cackle echoed off the metal roof and reverberated freely around the large room. He responded with overly placating interest. "Severus, is it? I'm sorry to tell you that your former Potions Master is dead. He can't save you now, can he?"

Taking his time, Lucius began unbuttoning her blouse from the top down until all the buttons were free, and he peeled the fabric away from her chest like he was unwrapping a priceless gift. Savoring his victim before indulging in her, he trailed his long fingers down the nape of her neck to her chest, resting his hand between her breasts. The bile that had been building in the back of Hermione's throat came forward, burning when it flowed from her mouth as projectile vomit landed on the face and chest of her captor.

He retracted, but only long enough to cast a few Scourgifying spells on himself, as well as his victim. Putting his wand away, his overacted concern returned to his tone of voice. "That should take care of it. After I'm finished with you I hope you learn to appreciate my ministrations. You will learn to accept my advances and even crave them over time." Moving closer to her, he placed his hand on the inseam of her jeans, just above her knee, and leaned over to kiss her. She closed her mouth and turned her head to keep from tasting his saliva. He gripped her chin with his free hand and forced her to face him. His mouth a mere inch from hers, he slid his other hand up the inseam of her thigh. "I'm going to teach you how to please me," he breathed.

"Father!" Cried Draco.

The older wizard ignored his son and began to unfasten the buttons of Hermione's jeans. Hermione could see behind Lucius as Draco's shaking hand pointed his wand at his father.

"I will only give you one chance to stop what you are doing," Draco ordered, in his most somber voice.

Lucius slowly angled his head to look in Draco's direction. In a trance-like tone, he said smoothly, "Don't worry, son. You may have a go after I've had my turn."

Draco did not back down, but readied his wand to Stupify his father. Before the boy could speak the incantation, Lucius disarmed him and knocked him backward with a violent stunning spell of his own. Draco's feet left the ground and he landed on the rickety wooden crate behind him, splintering it under his sudden weight. Lucius walked over to where his son lay and nudged his leg with the toe of his shoe to make sure the boy was unconscious.

Visibly trembling, Hermione's voice broke when she shrieked, "No! Draco! Why are you doing this, Malfoy?"

Lucius stormed toward her, and forcefully grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head backward to expose her neck. He didn't answer, but licked her from her jaw down to her collar bone while sliding a hand down her abdomen. She squirmed and screamed, fighting him as best she could, but he laughed, and worked free the rest of the buttons on her jeans, opening them so the top of her white lacy knickers were exposed.

"Let's just say…Miss Granger...That with your help, I will resurrect the Dark Lord." Pulling a phial from his pocket, he held it up to the light and studied the churning green fog inside of it. He looked hungrily back at her and said, "One droplet of blood from your maidenhead is all that is needed to bring him back."

Rubbing himself through the fabric of his trousers, his hardened member was clearly visible, and the surprised expression in her eyes made him more excited. Unfastening his trousers, he asked, "Tell me, Miss Granger. Have you ever seen a man's erect penis?"

Turning her head away from him, she clenched her eyes shut and whimpered, "No."

From the shadows behind Lucius Malfoy, spoke the low baritone voice of Severus Snape. "Nor shall she see yours, Lucius."

Lucius felt Snape's wand pushing into the back of his neck and he removed his hand from his pants and put both in the air on either side of his head.

"Severus. How nice it is to see you, old friend. I thought the Dark Lord had killed you. Have you come to partake in our little party?" Lucius said in a facetious, menacing tone.

"_Hardly_." Seethed Snape, pushing his wand more forcefully through Lucious Malfoy's long, blonde ponytail. "Fasten your trousers, Lucius, unless you want a party of your own when you arrive at Azkaban," he ground through gritted teeth.

Lucius obeyed the command and Snape removed the wand from Lucius's back pocket.

Snape's eyes darted to Hermione, whose exposed chest was heaving up and down. Her white bra was stained red by her blood and her eyes were terrified and traumatized. Although she had slight cuts and bruises, he was relieved to see that her clothing was intact, indicating that she had not yet been despoiled against her will. Relief took him over and he relaxed a little, becoming distracted by his strong protective feelings for her.

Lucius sensed Severus's distraction and bolted for the exit.

Throwing magic from his wand, Snape commanded, "Stupefy!"

Lucious was knocked unconscious and landed on the wasted box next to where Draco lay.

Turning his wand to Draco, Snape called, "Ennervate!"

The young wizard awoke, instinctively grasping his pocket for his wand.

"Draco," Snape instructed, "Untie Miss Granger!"

Draco nodded and got to his feet. Glancing at his unconscious father, he staggered to where Hermione lay. He quickly unbound her with one swift command of his wand. Her arms had been extended over her head long enough that the muscles in her shoulders had frozen and the force of them dropping to her sides caused her to faint from the pain. She lay sprawled across the sugar bag and Draco used the time to try and heal some of her bleeding wounds. He buttoned her shirt, as well as the top button of her jeans to help restore some of her dignity.

Satisfied that Draco was helping Miss Granger, he approached Lucius, and cast the Incarcerous spell twice, rendering the wizard completely helpless.

Snape bent over and picked up the phial Lucius had dropped when he had been stunned. Holding the apocalyptic brew in front of his eyes, he recognized the contents of the Resurrection Potion the Dark Lord had commissioned from him as his last task as a Death Eater. Since its inception, a mind altering charm using dark magic had apparently been placed upon the phial with the intention of causing the one holding it to feel the need to carry out the plan to bring back the Dark Lord. Snape immediately dropped it back onto the floor and incinerated it with a quick flick of his wand. Not even ashes remained.

Looking down at Lucius with abhorrence, Snape uttered, "Enervate."

Lucius opened his eyes and immediately struggled to break free of the restraints, but he was completely bound with thick, white rope from his shoulders all the way to his ankles. He resembled a mummy from a Muggle movie. He panicked to the point of tears. He had no idea where he was, how he got there, or why he had come to be bound to such an extent.

Snape mustered his patience and firmly asked, "How long have you had the Resurrection Potion, Lucius?"

Lucius tried to remember through the clouds of confusion and weakness the newly broken spell had inflicted upon him. His voice was a high pitched whimper when he tried to answer. "I...I….He gave it to me just before we were to overtake the castle. He said I would know what to do with it."

"Do you remember anything about the Final Battle?" Snape asked cooly.

Lucius looked away, embarrassed and ashamed. Redness framed his eyelids. "No."

Exhaling, Snape informed Lucious, in his most restrained teacher's voice, "The Dark Lord has been vanquished, the boy who lived lives on, and you just attempted to rape Hermione Granger. That catches you up. You will remain here to wait for the Aurors to arrive." With that, Snape whirled around and made his way to Miss Granger.

Lucius fainted.

Snape ignored the restrained wizard and handed Lucius's wand to Draco while his eyes swept over Miss Granger. "Tend to your father, Draco. It…was not his fault. He was acting under a dark curse left by the Dark L…Left by Voldemort. It is over."

Draco accepted the wand and moved to kneel beside his father. He was relieved to know that his father had not been in his right mind to do the things he had done, but he decided to wait for the Aurors, and to not take him directly home. Although his father had suffered a type of Imperious Curse, he needed to answer for his actions. There was much work ahead for their family, but still, he smiled to himself.

Calling over his shoulder, Draco asked, as if sharing a private joke, "What now? Shall you make tea?" There was no answer and he turned just in time to catch a glimpse of his godfather carrying Hermione carefully in his arms through the door to the outside and into the refreshing rains of freedom.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: It's only canon when it's convenient.

Reminder: These characters belong to the mighty JKR and all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 15

Freedom

Snape stepped carefully out of the warehouse with Miss Granger safely in his arms. The spring night had become frigid, and the rain came down in sideways sheets, hampering his vision. The only sounds to be heard were the slap of the rain on the metal roof of the rusty warehouse and pre-dawn delivery trucks starting their early morning runs in the far distance. As he had done so many times as a double agent, he ignored his aching body's demand for rest, and defied the ruthless forces of nature that threatened to impede his mission. Catching a quick glance down at Miss Granger, he noticed the rain was washing away much of the blood from her wounds and she began to stir, waking from the cool droplets splashing on her skin. Her unruly hair was a quagmire of soaked ringlets stuck to her face and the mess of it stringing across her face was an unexpected endearment to him, causing a new rush of adrenaline to fuel his spirit. Readjusting her weight in his arms, he set out to find cover for them, leaving behind the violence that had plagued his life.

Ahead of him was a wide, seemingly endless, darkened pier that that led from the rusty metal warehouse to a dimly lit wharf that housed a row of several tall Victorian buildings. On either side of the pier, colossal sized, unlit ships rocked and groaned under the punishment of the storm, protesting their restraints. Snape quickened his stride and blindly walked the middle of the path, using the walls of the ships as a corridor to freedom.

Fortunately, the streetlamps at the end of the pier were burning brightly, and although the rain came down harder, he could see the area quite well. As soon as he passed underneath the light, he stepped off the pier, and caught sight of the perfect pink tips off Miss Granger's peaked nipples through the transparent fabric of her soaked white blouse. His face flushed hot and he silently chastised himself for what he had unwittingly seen. He became stone faced and focused his eyes on a covered opening between two of the larger buildings just ahead of them.

Snape accidentally stumbled over a phantom barrier in his path, but quickly regained his footing. Silently blaming Miss Granger for his dunderheaded clumsiness, he almost tripped again when she reflexively grabbed onto his robes, and her right hand tightly clutched his bicep. Aware of the weight of her wide eyes scrutinizing his face, he had to concentrate harder to prevent dropping her in the mud. In an effort to ensure he would not make eye contact with her, he placed a cloaking spell on them, but he hoped she would think he placed the spell so they would not be seen by any early morning travelers.

Unsure if he was more weakened by his physical exhaustion or her touch, he knew he needed a Pepper-Up Potion, and more importantly, Miss Granger would need Healing Potions. Taking a mental inventory of what was in his pockets, he realized he had left the house in such a hurry to rescue the young witch that he had not brought any potions with him.

He ducked into a narrow covered alley and cast a drying spell on them. Too tired to continue standing with the young witch in his arms, he leaned his back against the brick wall behind him and slid carefully down until he was sitting on a flattened cardboard box. Out of breath, he pulled his outer cloak around Miss Granger for warmth. He was grateful to be out of the rain, out of immediate danger, and safe with the young witch perfectly tucked in his arms.

Neither spoke, but Hermione was elated that her Potions Master was alive and she was overcome with gratitude to whatever forces that brought him to her rescue. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him, but she was unable to raise them very far and she was certain there was damage to the nerves and ligaments that connected her arms to her shoulders. Instead, she held onto his arm with both of her hands, and rested her head against his chest. She could not see him for the cloaking spell, but she could hear him breathing and his heart pounding within his chest. She didn't have the energy to speak and the beating of his heart calmed and she found herself breathing with him. She relaxed into his grasp, enjoying the solid muscles of his capable arms. She remembered kissing him as he lay dying in the Shrieking Shack. After all she had been through, she refused to be embarrassed by her actions from that particular night, and she didn't care if he remembered her kiss or not. She would rather have him alive and berating her for her actions than for him to be…dead. _Death. Ron. Harry. _ Overwhelmed by emotions, she began to cry, and her body shuddered under every heaving sob that escaped her throat. Knowing she was safe in his arms, her emotional turmoil overruled every single physical ache and pain in her body and she allowed her soul to spill forth without the need to retreat to her fantasy beach. Professor Snape would protect her.

Snape could feel the shudders of her body as she sobbed. There was so much to say to her, to tell her, but now was not the time. His thoughts and emotions were chaotic and he needed to form a plan as to what to do next. Perhaps after a short rest he would be more equipped to make decisions. He closed his eyes and hugged the young woman tightly to his chest, unable to restrain the temptation of embracing her with relief and compassion. Although he felt slightly guilty for taking advantage of her vulnerable state, he allowed himself the rare opportunity of holding another human being; a situation he had never truly experienced. Not even with Lily. He had loved her from afar and had never been gifted the chance to try before she took up with James Potter. He did, however, remember rocking her uninhabited body in his arms after The Dark Lord had killed her.

Suddenly, a wave of emotion washed over him. The memory of Lily Potter that had sustained him all these years suddenly left him, bringing in its wake the faces of all those lost in the war, as well as the sacrifices he had made while playing a duel role as a spy and a Death Eater. _No,_ _Mr. Potter,_ he thought, _life isn't fair_. Squeezing his eyes shut, he refused to allow any tears to fall, but a few escaped and trickled down his jaw, and plopped onto his collar. Pulling her even closer to his chest, he cradled Miss Granger's head in the crook of his neck, and caressed her hair, remembering her shouts as she fought the war outside while he lay paralyzed on the Shrieking Shack floor. Had he heard her voice silenced by a Killing Curse, he would have willed himself to die on that night. _At least I have you_, he thought.

Whispering comforting words in her ear came naturally and he was surprised at his own voice when he muttered to her in soft, low tones, "Shhh, Miss Granger. Everything is alright now. You are safe. I have you now….Shhh."

As soon as she calmed, they fell asleep until the break of dawn, which couldn't have been more than a few hours. He opened his eyes to find her still sleeping uncomfortably on his shoulder, and his legs were completely numb from having her weight resting on top of his thighs. He tried to move them without waking her, but it was no use.

"Miss Granger. You must wake up. We cannot stay here." The fleeting tone of his classroom voice had returned, but it was only because his legs had begun to fell like thousands of pins were pricking him simultaneously.

Her eyes opened and then darted around, momentarily disoriented, and when comprehension set in, she rolled off his lap and onto the edge of the flattened cardboard box without saying a word. Holding on to his shoulders, she painfully got to her knees and then braced herself on the brick wall, seemingly climbing up brick by brick until she was completely erect. She grimaced and exhaled, but the more she moved, the easier it became. Her shoulders were still very painful, but she was able to use her arms, and she felt the prickling of splinters sticking all over the backside of her body. There was a large crust of blood on the reddened webbing of her hand from the rusty nail and she was certain it would become infected if not treated very soon. Otherwise, she was alive and she had spent the night sleeping in the arms of Professor Snape.

Unable to unfold his body to stand, he waited for her to gain her balance, and he held up his hand to her. "Miss Granger. Would you kindly…"

She understood immediately that he needed help getting up and she took his hand with her uninjured one and moved closer to him so he could use her body to pull himself up. He did not pull up by her hand, but he took it and braced himself on her thigh with the other until he could turn and grab onto the wall.

With his back to her, he brushed himself off, and mumbled, "Thank you."

Turning around, he swallowed hard when he saw all the abrasions, contusions, and dried blood in her hair. He knew that she had lost a lot of blood because her face was pale and there were still deep gashes that continued to trickle. Taking her injured hand in his, he turned it over and studied it on both sides.

"This is becoming infected. You need medical attention." Looking around, he saw no movement just on the outside of the alley, so he knew there were no Muggles within earshot to hear the pop of Apparation. "We will Side-Along from here to Hogwarts. I'm sure Poppy is there attempting to restore order to…"

"No!" She interrupted, jerking her hand from his grasp. "I don't need Madam Pomfrey!" Lowering her voice, she added, "They're only bumps and bruises, after all." She lifted a corner of her mouth and dared to look into his eyes.

He remembered saying the exact same thing to her the night she had been waiting for him by his door. Quirking his eyebrow, he offered a half-smile in return, but quickly let it go. "I understand. However, St. Mungo's is out of the question. That place is nothing but…"

She interrupted him again. "Take me with you!"

He stood to his fullest height and looked down his nose at the chit of a girl who was now giving him orders. However, he wanted nothing more than to disappear with her and attempt to have a life with her. _She has no idea what she is asking_, he thought silently.

"And where, exactly, Miss Granger, am I to go and what makes you think I have any desire to be weighted down with a damaged witch who cannot…" That was not what he wanted to say and he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Changing his tone to a more understanding softness, he added, "That is to say…Perhaps I could take you to your parents?"

She said nothing, but glared daggers at him. Her resolve broke before she could respond. "I do not exactly know where they are."

"Please explain."

Taking in a long, deep breath, she kept the tears at bay, and never blinked when she responded with a shaky voice. "I Obliviated them and sent them away to keep them safe from Death Eaters. I don't know if they're even alive and I have no way of finding out. They are somewhere in Austrailia." Wrapping her arms around her abdomen, she defied the tears that wanted to spill forth, but she closed her mouth, and waited for his reaction.

Tight-lipped, he studied her for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. His emotions almost got the better of him because he knew she had done the right thing. The Dark Lord had sent a group of Death Eaters to find her parents and torture them for information regarding her whereabouts when she had been hunting Horcruxes.

He could think of nowhere else to take her and he carelessly blurted out the only idea that came to his mind. "Would you feel more at home at the Burrow?"

Anger, more than sadness, overwhelmed her, and she was determined not to break down and cry like a first year. _He should know better than that!_ Her eyes went cold and she replied in the most businesslike manner she could muster. "Thank you, Professor. You have done enough for a lifetime without having to care for a…_broken_ witch." Stepping around him, she walked away from him as fast as her aching body would allow.

Just before she stepped into the bright rays of daylight that glossed the sidewalk, he reached out his hand and gently grasped her elbow with the tips of his long fingers, mindful of her injuries. "Potter and Weasley are alive, Miss Granger." He said as more of a command.

She whirled around to face him, confused. Her mind could not completely process the information he had just given her because her brain was racing to try and think of where she was, where she would go, and how she would get there. Balling her fists at her sides, she wasn't sure if she had heard him right, and she tilted her head in a questioning pose.

"Believe me, Miss Granger…I would not relay this information to you if I did not deem it worthy of the utmost importance." His voice was so sincere he was not certain it had been his own.

Taking charge of her emotions before she reacted in any way, he pulled her further into the shadows of the alley, and placed his body in front of hers to block her path. Looking down at her battered face, he tenderly moved a wild lock of her hair from her furrowed brow. As if he was going to tell her his deepest, darkest secret, he spoke directly to her hollow, amber eyes. "There is a safe place for… _Us…_to go."

She threw her arms around his waist before she could think better of it, and gasped with pain, but she clasped her hands together at his lower lumbar, and buried her face in his chest. "Thank you, Professor!" She whispered through her oncoming sobs.

Snape wrapped his cloak around her and possessively spread the long fingers of both of his hands across her back. Calling on all of his energy, he focused, and Apparated them safely to the small garden in the back of his small house at Spinner's End.


End file.
